


It's Never Twins

by Autor_Moriarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Hint: it's triplets, James isn't really in a great state of mind, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, sorry if you came here for it, the Seblock is a pretty minor part of the story, though it's not described in detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 37,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autor_Moriarty/pseuds/Autor_Moriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson thought James Moriarty was dead and gone until his face was plastered on every screen in London. Sherlock laughed at his twin theory, but it's not as absurd as it seems. John was just wrong about the number.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After the "miss me" footage aired, John turned it over in his head many times, trying to make sense of what had happened. Was it Mycroft's doing maybe, to save Sherlock's life? Or someone else, an accomplice perhaps, out for revenge for their dead employer? There were even times that he'd toyed with the possibility of it being a twin, but he'd never considered this.

He was out shopping at a new grocery store, since his usual was currently under renovations, talking on his phone to his sister about Sherlock's latest relapse, when he saw...

Well, at first he wasn't really sure what he was seeing. Down the aisle there were three men gathered around a shopping cart, debating amongst themselves, but what really stuck out was their faces. They were identical to Moriarty's. John's heart stopped.

There were subtle differences of course. One was dressed in an incredibly fashionable coat, and with his fluffy-looking hair and the haughty look on his face, he looked like some kind of Hollywood star. Even from the distance, even with the changed demeanor, John could tell instantly who he was. Richard Brook. He sipped his coffee and threw in a snarky comment.

The next one's hair was shorter than the other two and it was combed forward and relaxed-looking. Tinted eyebrows, clean shaven. With a flashy scarf and sleep deprived eyes. Jim Zucco, the man who dated Molly. He seemed the most heated, glaring sternly at their companion as he argued.

And then there was the third one. He was dressed in a nice suit, with a leather-collared cashmere coat over it. A pair of aviator sunglasses were pushed up on top of his head and his eyes were golden brown and so full of life. He mostly seemed amused, running a hand back through his hair and watching Zucco rant.

John dropped his phone and they all did a double-take. Richard smiled once he recognized John, as if they were old friends. Zucco winced at seeing John's phone screen shatter, his IT instincts too strong. And James Moriarty, _the_ James Moriarty, the man from the pool, from the footage all over the country, he laughed, delighting in the look of pure shock on John's face. It wasn't possible... Was it?

And when they started towards him, John didn't have any idea what to do. Would they shoot him? Beat him up?

"Dr. Watson! It's wonderful to see you!" Richard grabbed his hand, shaking it firmly, all the while grinning from ear to ear, "It's been so long, you look healthy!" Well, he certainly didn't act like the Richard Brook John had met before.

"You look not dead." John said, trying to be cutting though it came out a little weak.

"Brilliant, did Sherlock teach you how to do that?" James said patronizingly and John went red.

"What the fuck are you all doing here? And what the fuck are all of you?" John hissed.

"What, do you think were clones or something?" Zucco taunted, picking up John's shattered phone and handing it back to him, "We're brothers."

John accepted it numbly, blinking at the identical faces, "Oh. Are there anymore?"

The three of them laughed in unison and James shook his head, "Thankfully not, three is more than enough."

"Well... Sherlock did say it was never twins." John muttered faintly and Richard started laughing again. His laughter became more faint and John's vision began to go black as he passed out, crumpling to the floor.

* * *

When John came to, he'd half convinced himself it was a dream or some drug trip caused by Sherlock wanting to run a test on someone with a low tolerance.

He didn't expect to be lying on a cot in the grocery store manager's office, Richard Brook sitting and cleaning his nails with a business card just across from him, boots up on the desk. This day just kept getting better and better.

"You fell pretty hard." Richard said quietly, "James, you know, the main one you interacted with, he suggested we call an ambulance to take you to the hospital and be done with it, just in case you had a concussion, but I thought we should we how you feel first. No point drawing attention to this incident."

"Fucking tits."

Richard rolled his eyes, "Maybe you do have a concussion after all."

"So which of you is the one in charge? The leader?" John was confused and more than a little angry, he'd been perfectly happy convincing himself it was just a bad dream.

"No one's the leader Dr. Watson, we're brothers. I'm not sure what about that is so tricky to understand."

"Then who runs the empire?" John shouted, trying to make sense of it all. Triplets. He'd been talking to triplets.

"We all do." Richard said calmly, dropping his legs and leaning forward in his chair, "Though who handles most of the work is dependant on who is feeling the most on edge. That's usually James. He's pretty... desperate." He made a finger gun and held it to his head to illustrate his point.

"And of course he's the one you interacted with the most. At the swimming pool, he was the one that sat with you those few hours. And he was the one up on the rooftop, though I doubt Sherlock's told you much about what happened there. He gets off on being withholding. If he knows things that you don't, it makes him feel like he's useful." Richard laughed.

"So James is the one that I know."

"Well, you know all of us. It's not like you had many chances to meet us anyway." Richard winked, "Jimmy was the first one to actually meet you. He had to watch Glee just to get close enough to Sherlock to interact with him and the pretty fucker didn't even pay him a second glance, that pissed him right off. But that's how we learned about you, so it wasn't a total waste. Then you met James, he's a big fan of yours, then you met me. Though obviously I'm not Richard Brook."

"Is your name Richard?"

"You can call me Richard if you'd like."

"Is it your birth name though?"

"You only need to know that I'm Moriarty, Dr. Watson. We all are."

John sighed, putting his head in his hands, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"You're asking questions, I have answers." Richard said plainly, "Besides, it's not like it matters. You can't do anything with the information."

"But Sherlock can." John straightened up, glaring at Richard with determination as he reached for his phone, "I'm going to tell him everything."

His pocket was empty.

"You shattered it, silly." Richard hummed, tilting his head as he studied John, "So my brother took it."

John felt sick, "What will you do to me?"

"Do to you? Hmm. I'm not sure, but I might be hungry later." Richard's grin widened, "I bet you taste delicious."

John couldn't tell if it was intended as a threat of cannibalism or a sexual innuendo. Neither option was really appealing... "Probably not."

"Richard." A voice came from the doorway and John looked over to see the one he'd come to think of as the real Moriarty, with the smoothed back hair and the familiar suit. John didn't think he could be relieved to see him, but deep down he was. James' dark eyes were fixed on his brother at the desk, "Let him alone. We don't want him passing out again."

"Is the manager gone?"

"Jim's talked him away from the door, yes. Come along, Dr. Watson." James pushed the door open further and stepped aside to make room, turning his blank gaze to John.

"Where are you taking me?" John stood anyway and walked towards James, gasping a little when the man put his arm loosely over his shoulders and began to lead him calmly through the store. John didn't resist. Thankfully James wasn't rough or cruel, simply detached, staring ahead, and John got the feeling that it wasn't intended to be rude but rather an attempt at being calmingly predictable.

"You're going to come with me to my current safehouse. I'll have a doctor around to look at you soon enough." James glanced down at John, shaking his head in disappointment, "It's regrettable that we bumped into one another here. It's just pointless and now there's all this extra work to deal with, everything gets so tangled up..." He tsked and looked back up, helping John into a waiting car, "What a mess."

John was silent as they drove, mostly in shock. The driver locked the doors as soon as they were in and he watched out the window until James wordlessly passed him a blindfold.

"Keep this in the car all the time for accidents like these?" John muttered. He could have sworn he saw James smile out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked up it was gone.

"One never knows." James moved to help tie the blindfold into place and John sat in the darkness, listening to the car.

They drove for hours and he found that even with the horrifying situation, he wasn't scared, just shivering with anticipation. Typical really.


	2. Chapter 2

John hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but by the time they pulled up at the house and he startled awake it was too late to do anything about it. He wiped some drool from his mouth and scowled when he heard an amused chuckle from James.

“Sleep well?”

“Not really, I’m a bit stiff.” John turned towards the voice, jumping when a hand touched his arm.

“Easy now.” James murmured, helping John back out of the car, then starting to untie his blindfold. Gravel crunched under John’s feet, he could hear the driver’s door slam, then footsteps as whoever it was walked away. James tugged the blindfold completely off and moved to set it back in the car as John looked at his new surroundings.

They were outside and if John knew anything about astronomy he might have known that it was pretty damn late. But as it was he blinked at the stars and the moon and felt lost.

No light pollution here. They must be pretty isolated.

He didn’t want to be alone with any version of Moriarty. God knows what might happen to him.

James closed the car door, then started down the gravel pathway towards the large house, slipping his hands into his pockets as he admired the sky. John hurried after him, realizing it was probably futile to run off on his own. At least there hadn’t been any threats. Yet.

“Where are we?”

“I’m not Richard, Dr. Watson. I’m not going to tell you everything just because I know you can’t do anything with the information. I’d rather not waste my time and it doesn’t actually concern you.” James glanced over, raising an eyebrow, “Besides, what if you got into a situation where you _could_ use that information, hmm? I’m not going to shoot myself in the foot by getting cocky like that, it’s just too risky.”

“Are you always this pragmatic?”

“I try to be.” James chuckled, climbing up the steps to the front door, “Richard is a tad less careful…”

“Is Richard his real name? Sherlock mentioned that Richard Brook was Reichenbach, so it seems like kind of an odd coincidence…”

“Well his last name isn’t Brook, I can tell you that.” James laughed, holding the door for John as he kicked his dress shoes off.

John rolled his eyes and stepped inside, looking around at the front room with a furrowed brow as he knelt to untie his shoes, “No shit.”

“Don’t worry about his name. You can call him Richard.”

“And the other one, the IT worker. What’s he called?”

“Well… Jim. You can call him Jim.”

“But you told us at the pool that Jim is short for James. Aren’t you James? Why do you have the same name? And don’t you go by Jim as well?” John trailed off when he noticed James withdrawing into himself and giving him a dull stare instead, “Too much?”

“I get that it’s a novelty to you, but I’m really not getting anything from explaining things that I already understand.” James explained as best he could, deciding blunt logic was the best way to let John know why he was getting disconnected, “It’s hard to devote the energy to something that’s not very mentally rewarding.”

“Oh, good to know.” John said, giving James a sarcastic look, “You’re tired because I’m trying to understand my new situation and it’s not stimulating enough for your massive intellect. Guess what, in the real world, people don’t always act how you want and no one’s going to censor themselves just because you want it.”

James knelt next to him in an instant, body coiled and dangerous, his eyes blazing black as he leaned into John’s space, voice a low murmur that made the hair on the back of John’s neck stand up, “I’m not your little detective _pal_ , Dr. Watson. I’m not someone that you can guilt into behaving the way you want just because it’s convenient for you. Sherlock’s amazing in your eyes until he doesn’t kiss the right arse or show the right emotion and then you turn on him like an animal, but you don’t ever do that to me. I’m not normal, Dr. Watson. I don’t ever pretend like the true me is anything other than what I am. I’m not changing, I’m not apologizing, and I’m certainly not going to pretend like I give a shit about morality to a man that’s only sticking around his current flatmate just because he gives him license to shoot people. If you act as though you think you’re better than me ever again just because our brains don’t operate in the same way, I’ll bury you in the ground. Are we clear?”

John had never been more terrified in his life but he managed a nod, heart racing in his throat. Jesus Christ, that wasn’t something he’d expected. He stayed still for the next few moments as James stared him down, then released a shaky breath when the man nodded curtly and stood once again.

“If you’re hungry, dinner’s in the kitchen.” James hung up his coat on a hook by the door and walked off as if nothing had ever happened.

John slumped back against the door and held a hand to his chest, trying to slow the sickening pounding.

It took a few minutes, but eventually John found his balance again and stood, starting to explore the massive house. It was all so refined and elegant with the high ceilings and rich brown hardwood floors, like it belonged to someone who came from old money, though John kind of doubted that James and his brothers were.

There were also a lot of bookshelves in all the different rooms. Rows and rows of books on a variety of subjects, the most prevalent being advanced mathematics and astronomy, as well as large comfy-looking armchairs with plush blankets draped over them, placed strategically by lamps or windows to provide the reader with plenty of light.

John eventually found his way to the kitchen by the smell of chicken. The room was just as impressive as the rest of the house with appliances that all matched and looked brand new, but John didn’t pay it any attention now that he was suddenly aware of his hunger.

Sebastian Moran, currently cooking to the best of his abilities, glanced back when he heard footsteps, expecting to see James, but instead there was John. His first thought was that there was an intruder in the house and his second was the realization of who the man actually was.

“John?”

John gave him a quizzical look, trying to place Sebastian now that it had been a few years since he’d gotten out.

“Captain John Watson? Oh my god, it’s you!” Sebastian stopped what he was doing and rushed to give John a tight hug, “What are you doing here? Did you start working for Moriarty?”

“Uh…”

“You don’t remember me.” Sebastian released John, shaking his head in a playfully scolding manner, “You have such terrible memory for faces, you know that?”

“I recognized three Moriartys from down a Tesco aisle, it’s not that bad.” John said defensively.

“Oh, _them_. Psh, anyone would recognize that face. I guess that explains why you’re here hough. It’s Sebastian Moran! Come on, you have to remember me.” Sebastian laughed, lightly bumping John’s good shoulder with his fist, “Colonel Sebastian Moran actually.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” John’s eyes widened in surprise, “Basher.”

“That’s me!”

“You… you take orders from a bunch of criminal masterminds?”

Sebastian burst out laughing, “As if. Nah, I just stick with the one. I can’t imagine working for everybody, they’d probably give me contradictory orders and I’d end up dying since I’d piss one of them off.”

“I should have expected this I guess. You never really cared about morality.”

“Neither did you.” Sebastian winked.

John sighed a little breathlessly, “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been hearing lately… So you’re a chef?”

“Well, no. I’m a…” Sebastian frowned, trying to think of the right word without coming off as insulting, “A… a bodyguard. Of sorts. I keep James safe from any possible threats.” His voice lowered to a murmur, “Including himself. Don’t go sharing that though.”

John felt a little unsteady with Sebastian confiding such personal information but he nodded, “Of course. Richard, or whatever his name is, he mentioned that this one was the one on the roof. So I guess he’s not really stable?”

“Well, he’s not going to just attack somebody out of the blue or anything, don’t worry. I don’t want you thinking that he’s like that.” Sebastian rushed, “He’s a good boss, John. Please don’t think that just because I told you that that he’s extra dangerous. I just help him when things aren’t going so smoothly. God knows you and I can relate.”

John was reminded of all the bad nights immediately after his return, and how even still, years after his service, he still woke up crying sometimes. Yes, he could relate. If he’d had the means he’d have probably gotten himself a bodyguard to help him keep calm too.

“Yeah, I get it. So you… cuddle him?”

Sebastian snorted, turning back to the food he was preparing, “Does James look like the cuddly type? Fuck no. Sometimes he wants to play piano to calm down, I help him over to it. Sometimes he wants to go up to the roof with a telescope, I make sure he’s wearing a coat and isn’t going to freeze to death up there. Sometimes he wants to watch a film or get in a good fight to blot out his thoughts, I help out like that too. Most people don’t have a boss they can beat up, I guess I’m lucky.”

“Wow. I feel like you shouldn’t be telling me this, like it might lessen how intimidating I find him.” John said, moving to sit at the kitchen island.

“Are you less intimidated now that you know? Do you think people would be less intimidated by you and I if they knew how fucked up we are?”

“Probably not… I don’t want you getting in trouble though.”

“Eh, he’s not going to do anything to me. There’s no way he’ll find someone else to put up with his shit.” Sebastian got out a bowl and filled it up, placing it in front of John, “Here, pasta and spicy chicken. Get your energy back up, you look exhausted.”

“Yeah, my day isn’t exactly going as planned.” John said, becoming aware of just how much he missed home. Sherlock probably hadn’t even realized something was up, he was so spaced out all the time. His sister might have assumed him dropping his phone was just a way to avoiding talking to her, he’d used the same trick before to get out of calls. How soon before anyone would notice? God, it would probably take Mrs. Hudson reminding Sherlock for a few weeks before he’d get exasperated with her pestering and actually bother trying to figure out where John had gone. It was easy enough for him to talk to himself, at least the silence didn’t ever contradict him.

John felt kind of angry now that he was thinking about it. His best friend probably wouldn’t even notice his disappearance. His best hope was probably Mycroft seeing the footage of his abduction, but John suspected that if James and his brothers were all in one public place, they’d ensured that no one would be watching.

“Chin up, John.” Sebastian murmured, sitting down with his own food, “I know it’s tough, but you’re going to be fine. You’ve survived worse.”

“You’re the only one that’s called me by my first name since this whole mess started.” John said softly, blinking at his food, “You have no idea how much that means.”

Sebastian looked sympathetic and he wanted to reach out in some way, with a hug or a nudge or a hair ruffle, but he didn’t want to push John closer to a breakdown so he stayed still, just picking at his food.

“I’m going to be right here, okay? I promise. No one’s going to hurt you here and we’ll get this figured out. We might be able to work out some kind of deal and then you’ll go right back where you belong.”

John nodded but deep down he felt like this experience was just drawing attention to the fact that he really didn’t belong anywhere. What a terrible fucking day.


	3. Chapter 3

John slept surprisingly well in the guest room that Sebastian had shown him to after dinner. He'd barely looked around the night before, just collapsing on the huge bed and falling into a heavy sleep, but in the morning he took advantage of the quiet and privacy to take in what would probably be his new bedroom. It was beautiful, there was no denying that, and it seemed expensive, but it was pretty clear that it wasn't regularly used. It felt empty, the air just a little stale.  
  
John supposed that criminal masterminds probably didn't get many visitors.  
  
He stiffly climbed out of bed with a groan and stumbled to open the doors to the balcony, gazing out at the beautiful countryside. There was a neatly maintained lawn surrounding the house for a good ways and out past it was a wooded area that seemed to cover nearly the rest of the property and beyond. Leaning out slightly, John could make out the gravel road winding back into the trees and he had a sense that even if he followed it he would reach a fence somewhere in the forest. Perhaps he’d heard the gates squeaking as they’d entered.

He went back to the bed, leaving the doors open to get some fresh air. John flopped on his back and gazed up at the ceiling, thinking about what he should do.

Well. At least for once he didn’t run the risk of someone barging in on him. John scratched his leg, then lightly brushed a hand over his groin before the thought occurred that there might be video cameras and he quickly yanked it away like he’d been burnt.

So much for enjoying the solitude.

He could just imagine James laughing at him. The thought drove John back to his feet and he moved to the closet, looking for something clean to change into. Thankfully it seemed that James had called ahead and had someone stock the room with clothes that would fit him, so John was able to find something appropriate, even if it wasn’t exactly his style.

John dressed in a button down and slacks and headed downstairs, making his own breakfast since Sebastian was nowhere to be found. He chewed on toast and wandered through the house until he found the door to the backyard where a large pool shimmered, unused.

That would certainly be a good way to pass the time, John reasoned, and he could do with a workout since there had been a lull in cases lately. He stepped outside and crossed the patio space to take a look at the water. Filtered and chlorinated, just as looked after as the rest of the property. John wondered who handled it all but maybe it was Sebastian. A lot of menial labor for an ex-army sniper, but he could enjoy it.

John had planned to ask permission, but when his continued search of the house turned up nothing, he changed into swim trunks and headed down with a towel. They couldn’t really blame him for trying it out if no one was here to tell him otherwise.

It was relaxing to swim laps. A good, repetitive exercise that numbed the brain and helped John forget about his worries. Back and forth, pushing himself to go faster and further, taking pleasure in the burn in his muscles. By the end, John was sore and exhausted and starving but he felt like it was completely worth it as he climbed out and moved to sun himself on his towel, like he’d accomplished something for the first time in ages.

“Do you normally sleep this much?”

John jumped awake, blinking up at James Moriarty who was standing over him, staring through his aviator glasses with his hands on his hips and a raised eyebrow.

“I. Er. No. Not really. But I swam and I was tired…” John cringed, recalling how aggressive James had been last night, “I hope that’s alright, sir.”

James burst out laughing, “ _Sir_. How cute. You can do whatever you like as long as it doesn’t involve ruining my things or going in my room. I don’t give a fuck.”

“So I can even stab you?”

James shrugged and smiled crookedly, “I don’t see why not, as long as you don’t tear my clothes.”

“Westwood, of course.”

“I hope you realize that’s not all I wear.” James grinned, moving to sit in one of the wood lounge chairs, crossing his legs and stretching out, “Yves Saint Laurent too. But that’s just for work.”

“You don’t wear suits all the time?” John found James’ smile a little disconcerting, most of his expressions at their previous meetings had been pretty fake, but this seemed so genuine that he couldn’t even tell anymore.

“God no. I don’t actually get _involved_ with my work.” James said it like it was a bad word, “I handle it all from home, less risk, less mess, less stress. Less dressing up for stupid fucks that think they’ve won something just because I’m paying them a little attention. Disgusting.”

“You really hate people.”

“No wonder I’m in my current line of business.” James turned his head to look at John, seeming to be in a much better mood, “Come on, you can’t think that I get dressed up in a suit every damn day. I spend most of my time on the computer, that’s just a waste of good clothes. When I dress up, I’m selling an image. Moriarty is someone to be trusted and feared. No one would fear me if I wore sweatpants and a t-shirt.”

John couldn’t help but laugh and he immediately questioned his sanity, “I guess not. I wouldn’t have at the pool, that’s for sure.”

“Wow, even with bombs and snipers, it turns out that appearances mean everything.” James snickered.

John sat up more, watching James, “Aren’t you worried that in telling me this, it’s ruining what you’ve worked to achieve? I mean, if you focus so much on how you present yourself to the world, why am I suddenly the exception?”

“You already saw my brothers and you’re already here. Nothing matters. Besides, I’m not even supposed to be here.” James heaved a sigh, studying the thin clouds drifting overhead. He didn’t explain further and John felt uncomfortable, like it involved what had happened up on the rooftop.

“You know how to swim?” John offered.

“Why else would I have a swimming pool?”

“You could have just liked the house and it was already here…”

“I know how to swim. Why, do I seem like I don’t?” James was smiling like John was the most hilarious person he’d spoken to in ages.

“Well, with what I heard about… Carl Powers…” John spoke slowly, waiting for James’ demeanor to shift, but it didn’t so he kept going, “I thought he might have bullied you out of learning.”

“It wasn’t my school that taught me how to swim, I took lessons before that. I just wasn’t incredible at it. I joined the swim team because I thought it would be fun, but alas…” James shrugged, still smiling, “That’s adorable though.”

“What is?”

“You. _Thinking_ about me. Making assumptions about my past based on the little you understand. It’s sweet that you’re interested.”

John bristled, “I’m not interested in you, Moriarty! I think that you’re twisted and evil and I’m going to get out of here, and when I do I’m going to lead Mycroft right back and he’s going to have you killed.”

“Yikes.” James chuckled, “Protest harder, why don’t you? Like you ranting about your hatred for me is going to change the fact that you’ve wondered about me, poor little baby James, never learning to swim.”

“You’re stupider than you look.”

“Still pretty fucking smart then.”

“You’re a monster.”

James shrugged, “Like everybody else you know, Dr. Watson.”

John threw up his hands in anger and stood, storming back towards the house, “Burn in hell!”

“I’m already there!” James sang as the door slammed shut behind John.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some super vague drug use in this chapter and James' suicidal thoughts are discussed, though the act isn't described.

John would have been more than happy to sit in his room forever just to avoid James, but by dinnertime he felt like he was going to be sick if he didn’t get something to eat, so he brushed his hair back into order – since it had dried wet – and reluctantly headed downstairs, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t going to stoop to James’ level.

Almost immediately, he regretted his decision.

Sebastian was cooking once again and James was sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through a phone.

John’s phone.

“What are you doing with that?” John asked, voice tight and struggling to keep controlled.

“Looking at your pictures.” James winked, “And your internet history…”

John’s fists clenched and Sebastian moved between them, breaking their eye contact and forcing John to look at him, “Don’t bother. It’s not worth me stopping you.”

“You can’t let me have one punch, for old times’ sake?” John said under his breath with a winning smile that didn’t reach the anger in his eyes.

“Ignore it. You’re bigger than this.”

“I’d say so by the bulge in these pictures.” James chimed in.

Despite trying, Sebastian couldn’t help but crack a smile and John snorted, “Oh, don’t encourage him.”

“Well, it’s kind of a compliment…”

“Not from _him_.”

“Because I’m evil or because I’m not your preferred gender?” James called.

“Because you’re evil.” John leaned around Sebastian to glare daggers at James, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“How telling.” James tapped a finger to his lips, “I knew you couldn’t be sending all these pictures of your arse to women, the ones you go for are too vanilla for pegging.”

John went red and Sebastian burst out laughing, shutting up as soon as John gave him a nasty look.

“Mind your business.” John moved to sit across from James, gladly starting to eat the panini Sebastian set in front of him.

“Yours is so much more interesting.” James hummed, setting the phone aside and starting to drum his fingernails on the table, “At least right now.”

When that failed to get a rise out of John, James rolled his eyes and sat back, head tilting as he began to think of weaknesses in John’s armor.

“Maybe you should lay off, boss. What’s the point of bringing him here rather than giving him to Richard if you’re just going to pester him too?” Sebastian sat and passed James a plate.

“Richard lacks the isolation and security to safely hold him.” James said, “Besides, don’t you think it’s good for me to have a hobby? One more thing to keep me from costing you your job.”

“I’m not a hobby.” John muttered.

“Look at that, one casual comment and he’s back to talking. It’s so fucking _easy_ , I can do it without even trying. Let me enjoy it before the novelty wears off at least.”

“I’m right here! Stop talking about me like that!”

“At least he thinks sometimes.” James turned to John with a dead-eyed grin, “Like this morning, considering the cameras before he whipped his cock out. That shows some promise. Maybe that’s why Sherlock keeps you around.”

“He keeps me around because we’re friends.” John said coldly, “You don’t have any experience, so you wouldn’t know.”

“Ooh, there he goes again, running his mouth like he _knows_ something about me.” James laughed quietly, with a hint of mania as he leaned in, ignoring the uncomfortable look on Sebastian’s face, “You want to bet your life on that, Dr. Watson? That I’ve never had any friends? When you were so wrong about my _swimming_?”

“No one gets to be the monster you are without isolation.” John didn’t break eye contact, “Sherlock’s pretty damn close, but at least he’s got people that love him. I don’t think you have anybody. Or at least that’s what you think yourself.”

“One might point out my brothers as evidence against that.”

“But I’m right. You think you’re alone.” John said slowly.

There was a silence, James watching John evenly, John holding his stare.

“And you’re right.” John added after a few moments, voice barely audible.

“John…” Sebastian cut in softly, trying to diffuse the situation, “Maybe you should head back to your room… I’ll be up soon—"

“Good job.” A grin spread across James’ face, eyes burning black once more, dangerous and intrigued, “You have potential.”

“I was right.” John pressed, “Tell me if I was right.”

“You’re starting to sound like Sherlock. Next thing you know, you’ll be torturing men just for a high.”

“You say that like I haven’t already done it.”

“I say it that way because you’re normally in denial.”

“I had a wakeup call yesterday.”

“I’m flattered to have shaken you out of your delusions.”

“Don’t be. You mean nothing to me.”

James’ smile was brilliant, “Wonderful. Looks like we’re in agreement.”

John nodded curtly and returned to his food, glad to have held his ground.

Sebastian looked like he had no idea what had just happened.

James continued to watch and once John was done eating, he stood, brushing off his shirt, “You ever try drugs?”

“A few times in college, nothing too extreme.” John said, glancing up warily, “Why?”

“You’re already an adrenaline junkie, why don’t we go upstairs and you can try something to take the edge off?”

“I kind of doubt this is out of compassion.” John laughed humorlessly.

“I know what it’s like to be dependent on stimulation to keep the darkness at bay.” James winked, “Besides, I don’t want to get high alone. And I want to see how you behave, call me a scientist.”

“James…” Sebastian blinked at him, “Do you think this is a good idea? John might have a concussion.”

“He doesn’t, I’ve seen enough of them to know.”

“But what about you?”

“Sebastian is confused because normally I detest things that inhibit me.” James explained with a laugh, moving around the table to grab John’s wrist, pulling him towards the door, “But it’s better than the alternative.”

“Yell if you need anything.” Sebastian said, staring hard at John, “No matter what. If you’re not comfortable, yell. I’ll come.”

“I’m hardly going to rape him, you know me better than that.” James guided John out of the kitchen and up the stairs, shaking his head at Sebastian’s worry.

“He knows you well enough to know what? That you aren’t into guys?” John asked, confused about the phrasing.

“I’m into everybody, Dr. Watson. He knows my stance on _consent_.” James rolled his eyes, “You really have a low opinion of me.”

“You haven’t given me a lot of reason to trust you.” John glanced at James’ hand, still on his wrist, tight but not painful, “It’s strange. If it was Sherlock, we’d consider this a danger night, but Sebastian doesn’t seem to care.”

“It _is_ a danger night. It’s just not dangerous like that. This isn’t the relapse, it’s the preventative measure.” James didn’t explain further and John kept his mouth shut.

 

James’ room was beautiful. The walls were painted dark blue with a glossy silver pattern of thin leafless trees all growing up from the baseboards and the furniture was in colors ranging from white to dark grey, the entire space mature and elegant. James dimmed the lights and John was able to make out the glow in the dark space scene above them, though calling it such was a disservice.

These were no green star stickers for children.

The entire ceiling was covered entirely in the glowing blue paint, beautiful, subtle, and bright enough to illuminate the room even with the lights off. John walked forward in a trance, staring up, unaware of James watching him expectantly. It was like a real night sky. Constellations, nebulae, stars of different sizes and intensities, all breathtaking.

John could barely tell the difference, it was as though he’d stepped outside without even realizing.

“Who made this?” John whispered.

James closed the door behind them, walking over to the desk for his supplies, “I did. Painting isn’t really my thing, but I didn’t trust anyone else to make it accurate so… I learned.”

“How accurate is it?” John covered his mouth, “It… it looks right to me, but I’m no astronomer…”

“I am. I did my best without pictures, I knew they wouldn’t capture it just right. Every few nights I’d go outside again with my telescope though, to double check.”

“You painted the night sky from memory…” John laughed, feeling lightheaded, “How fantastic.”

James looked over, eyes soft and searching John’s face for something, “I have trouble sleeping if the sun’s out, so a skylight was out of the question. But I felt like it was necessary.”

“What about this is necessary? It’s so complex and nearly impossible, I can’t even imagine how much energy this took…”

James moved back over to John, taking his shoulders and helping him lie back on the bed, then straddling him and starting to prep his arm. John watched in a detached sort of way, morbidly curious.

“What’s the drug?”

“Trust me, you’ve never heard of it.” James said smoothly.

“Is it dangerous?”

“Like everything that’s worthwhile doing, but at the least it’s the purest money can buy. I don’t shoot up baby powder or laundry detergent.”

“Is it addictive?”

“Do I look like I’m an addict?” James leaned over John’s face, smiling face lit by the stars above them.

“I don’t suppose so.”

“Trust me, one hit’s not going to make you dependent, Dr. Watson. Just relax and enjoy the high.”

John blinked up at the sky as James tested the syringe, then slid the needle into his arm and eased the plunger down. The effect was nearly instant and John sighed, expression going slack into a lazy smile, “Ohhh…”

“Told ya.” James grinned knowingly, climbing off and throwing away the syringe, then starting to prepare his own hit as John drifted for several minutes, taken by the lovely sky and the dedication and care that had gone into it. James was a mystery. What would drive a man to consider such a work of art a necessity? What was going on to make James feel so completely disconnected? John had no idea and it was hard for him to continue to believe that he had zero interest in learning more. And after years of wondering with no hope for answers, here he was with the mastermind himself, able to ask questions and learn more.

Because really, James was the Moriarty John knew. The one Sherlock was obsessed with. They’d already told him that James was the one who mainly controlled the empire, he was the most dependent on the work, he was the one that had been there at the pool and on the rooftop and even in the courtroom, John knew that without asking, it was clear who was who in retrospect.

James was the one John had wondered about. James was the one John had dreamt about.

James returned and John reined in his hazy thoughts a bit, turning his gaze to the other man, “Why do you do this?”

He considered for a few moments, blinking lazily, and when he spoke it was a low drawl, “I need to feel small sometimes. Otherwise I lose myself in my own mind.”

“Does it help?”

“Not as much as it used to. When we first met it did the trick pretty well.” James placed a hand flat on John’s chest, just to reassure himself that someone was with him, and John didn’t move away, “But by the fall… No.”

“Is that why you did it?”

“Space failing me is just a sign of an underlying problem… You know how… people who take drugs have to gradually up their dose for the same effect? I just… build up a tolerance to everything that keeps me away from that edge.”

“You tried to kill yourself.”

James laughed breathily, “Which time?”

“Up on the roof.”

“I’d have done it. But what can you do when people switch out your loaded gun for one with blanks? I just lied back and played dead.”

John blinked hard, trying to understand, “Why?”

James leaned in close, their mouths only inches apart, eyes fluttering closed, “Because nothing is ever enough to stop the endless cycle. I just plan and plan, nations rise and fall, money comes and goes, little people with little problems come to me, but there are always a million more to take their places, and not one of them will ever dull what I feel… Death is always coming for me, Dr. Watson, it’s been coming for me since the day I was born. I’m the man from The Pit and the Pendulum. The crescent razor never stops dropping lower, everything in my life is leading up to the moment that it finally makes contact. I can only delay death for so long, but one day… I’m going to slip and it’s going to reach me… Don’t you see?”

John choked on the lump in his throat, eyes glossy with tears, “Yes… Yes, god yes… I’ve never told anyone, because I don’t want them to be distrustful of me… But I guess you can’t really judge… I-I don’t follow Sherlock around because I care about those people. I do it because it’s the only thing that can satisfy this need in me to seek out danger. I went to war with the craving and ever since I got a taste, I can’t escape it. I know for a fact that I can never grow old. It would kill me to be stuck with this feeling, the desire to scream and scratch and fight and hurt, but without any way to go through with anything… I plan to die before it ever gets so bad, maybe when Sherlock’s mind goes... Either by my own hand or another’s. It doesn’t matter.”

“Exactly.” James sighed the word across John’s lips, a euphoric smile spreading across his face as he nodded, eyes full of sorrow but relief at the understanding, “Exactly…”

“Am I sick for being this way?” John whispered, blinking hard at James, “For wanting to strangle and punch even the people I care about?”

“I’m not really the best judge of that.” James whispered back, “I don’t think morality is real. We’re just animals, Dr. Watson. We’re just animals on a rock in the middle of nothing. We mean nothing in time.”

“Does that comfort you?”

“Always.”

“Please call me John. I’m not working right now.”

“John.” James smiled, “Yes. Of course I will.”

John leaned up slowly and James let him, eyes closing as he was kissed. For several moments, John just tasted James’ lips, seeking out something substantial to hang onto after his revelation, and James kissed him right back, chaste but tender.

They broke apart and didn’t speak. James leaned into John’s side and turned his attention to the ceiling and together they studied the expanse above them, lost in their own thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

Consciousness returned to John slowly and in fragments, a warm touch to his arm, murmuring lips against his ear, an Irish accented voice, the stars above muted slightly by the small amount of sunlight that was streaming through the crack in the curtains, his own distant heartbeat thudding in his chest.

His eyes focused slowly, then turned to where James was curled up against his side. He couldn’t make out his words exactly but it didn’t really matter, he was just rambling about something esoteric, speaking only to work through his thought process. His eyes were closed though and John was struck by how long his eyelashes really were. Delicate and demure. And with the uncharacteristic amount of stubble, John realized just how much he’d let his guard down. He had spent the night in James Moriarty’s bed.

“Am I still high?” John’s voice broke through James’ monologue and he trailed off to consider the question.

“I don’t think so. Do you feel high?”

“No…”

James shrugged as if that was an answer, not even bothering to open his eyes.

John watched him for a few minutes, entranced by his apparent serenity, but his mind continued to boot up until he was fully awake and recalling the events of the night before.

“Did the results of your test turn out how you expected?”

“How you act when you get high, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t bother hypothesizing beforehand. I’m not a very good scientist.”

“You didn’t even write down your results, I should say so.” John laughed roughly.

“But it was hardly unexpected.”

“Hmm?”

“Everything you did was pretty… predictable. Except for one thing.”

John felt his cheeks warm, deciding to beat James to the punch, “The kiss?”

“Psh. No. The fact that you understand what I’m going through.”

“Oh.”

“Of course you’d kiss me. You’re not as subtle as you think you are when it comes to your desires.”

“It only just occurred to me to try, are you seriously trying to act like you knew what I wanted before I did? You’re worse than Sherlock.”

“Ouch. I’m just saying that your unconscious thoughts are pretty easy to read.”

“But you really didn’t expect for me to understand?”

“No one ever does.” James sighed, “I thought Sherlock did. But after I tried to shoot myself, he just. Moved on. I guess I didn’t make as big an impact on him as he did on me.”

John felt vaguely uncomfortable. He didn’t quite get Sherlock’s significance to James or in what way James had valued him, it made his chest hurt to consider that it might be something past platonic.

Sure, it was strange to see people flirting with Sherlock and when they did it bothered him, but that was more out of concern for Sherlock’s comfort, but to think of James doing it… He felt jealous. And if it wasn’t about Sherlock, there was really only one other explanation.

“Do you love him?”

James pursed his lips in thought, “Well… No. It’s not like that. I don’t feel things like normal people, John, it’s not love. It’s just need. I need his work. And I want his understanding, but that’s pointless now. That’s probably why Jim and Richard asked Sebastian to stop working outside of the house, they think I can’t be left alone after such a crushing rejection.” He laughed softly, rubbing his forehead, “Once you try to die with someone and they opt out, that’s kind of the end of the relationship, wouldn’t you say?”

“So you don’t feel romantically or sexually interested in him?” John pressed, wanting the reassurance that… What did he want? To know that James was available? Even if he wasn’t preoccupied with thoughts of Sherlock didn’t necessarily mean he was available, he seemed so damaged and tragic up close.

“God, Dr. Watson, stop pestering.” James said irritably, pulling away and rolling onto his back, “You can rest easy knowing I don’t want to fuck or date your friend, alright? I have no desire in him past our business relationship. I don’t know if I’m capable of any other kind. Even if anyone wanted me, I don’t think I’d be able to provide them with all the things they’d be looking for and would no doubt demand from me, emotional availability and sexual satisfaction and romantic gestures. If you haven’t noticed, I lack empathy and I don’t “get” normal people.”

John sighed, turning to study James’ profile, “You ever try?”

“Well. I can fake a relationship when it’s necessary during disguises, but past that, I’ve never actually tried. They seem like a lot of work and require skill in things I’m not very good at.”

John bit his lip, “Have you had sex?”

James shrugged, “Yeah. For practice.”

“Men or women?”

“Are these my only options?” James smirked, “Both. And others.”

“So you like… everybody?”

“I don’t like anybody, haven’t you been listening?” James laughed, “I don’t have a preference. For strangers, it takes a little more work to be interested though. Mostly it’s about kinks. As long as you satisfy them, I’m good to go.”

John’s cheeks went red at being addressed directly as “you” and he nodded, wanting to change the subject before he actually started considering satisfying any of James’ kinks, “Oh. Okay. Good to know.”

“Don’t be a prude, you’re not innocent either.”

“I just didn’t expect for my day to go this way and I don’t think I want to hear any more about the sex life of my best friend’s nemesis…”

“Bondage!” James laughed gleefully, “Spanking, pegging, orgasm denial!”

John covered his ears, speaking loudly, “I’m not listening! I’m not listening to you!”

“I love gagging people with my cock!” James mouthed exaggeratedly in front of John’s face.

“Oh my god! Stop!”

James was too busy laughing to continue and John let his hands fall, glaring up at the ceiling, “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Well, I’m able to get someone to kiss me, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I was high, I can’t be held accountable for that. Maybe I thought you were one of you brothers.”

James laughed harder, “Is that supposed to upset me? You just confirmed that hypothetically you’d kiss people that look identical to me and also run a criminal empire, that’s just saying I have a chance.”

“God.” John frowned, a thought suddenly occurring to him, “Wait. You were on my phone last night but the screen wasn’t cracked. When did you fix it?”

“I didn’t fix it, I wouldn’t have any idea where to start. Jim was the one that took it with him when I brought you here.”

“So how did you get ahold of it?”

“Well—” James began, though he was cut off by a knock at the door, “Yes?”

“Hi James. You won’t believe this, but I just heard that the world famous Three Continents Watson would rather kiss me than you, so I was wondering if I could take him up on that offer?” Jim’s voice came through the door.

John went bright red.

James glanced at John with a crooked smile, “He decided to return it.”


	6. Chapter 6

John thought eating a meal with James was bad, but eating with both James and Jim was so much worse.

James sat beside John. Whether it was to be protective or possessive, John had no clue, but he found it comforting all the same. He felt closer to James with what they’d discussed the night before and the kiss hadn’t been half bad either.

Plus, it was better than sitting next to Jim.

Jim was dressed in a black t-shirt with the cover of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy on it, faded to appear vintage, and a pair of jeans with tears in the knees. His clothes, combined with his short hair and shaved face, made him look much younger than James and Richard, as if he could even be in his twenties.

Despite the young appearance, there was something unsettling about him. Maybe it was his overly innocent eyes. Or the smile on his face, sweet at first glance, but much less natural with further scrutiny. He looked like he could suddenly lunge across the table to bite John’s throat out any second and John probably wouldn’t have found it that unexpected. And his passion while arguing at the grocery store when both James and Richard had seemed far less heated, it was odd.

“What were you talking about at the store?” John asked, glancing between James and Jim.

Jim’s smile twitched. John’s stomach lurched.

“Cereal.” James said gently, “Jim said that he’s been ordering some cereal from the states, Lucky Charms, and Richard said that it was all sugar with no nutritional value, suggesting that he try something healthier, and Jim… had other thoughts.”

“He also said that it was racist.” Jim rolled his eyes.

“Well, maybe racist isn’t the right word, but it’s a bit stereotypical.” James said.

“ _Obviously_ we aren’t all leprechauns. No one actually thinks that we are.”

James glanced at John, “Well, you have to admit, there’s probably a _reason_ that it’s not sold here but it’s sold there, don’t you think?”

John’s eyes widened as Jim also looked at him, feeling put on the spot, “I… wouldn’t know. But isn’t it… marshmallows? It’s not the best thing for you…”

“Like anything you eat for breakfast is much better.” Jim snorted at John, “Pancakes? Waffles? French toast? It’s all sugar.”

“Bacon and eggs is pretty healthy. Toast too, depending on what you put on it.” James said and John was immensely thankful for the distraction.

“I’m a grown man, I can eat whatever I want.” Jim said sweetly.

“You work on the computer all day, you eat sugar for breakfast, skip lunch, then have take out or cake for dinner. Obviously you’re free to eat whatever you want, but Richard is probably right, it’s not ideal and it’ll probably catch up with you.”

“Wait.” John frowned and James and Jim looked at him, “Why were you at the second closest grocery store to my flat if you live so far apart? I mean, James lives all the way out here, can’t he shop locally? Or have someone else get it for him? Why did he need to go all the way to London? And then why was Richard there with Jim? And you just had your faces on every screen in the country, that’s hardly laying low! You seriously all went to shop at a store only a few kilometers from the flat of your greatest enemy within a month of reestablishing yourselves as England’s most wanted criminals and you didn’t worry that you’d get caught by anybody?”

James and Jim exchanged looks.

“Well, we always have jammers on us for the CCTV signals. Not only does it protect us from any cameras in the area, the field fluctuates differently in every direction, so we can be anywhere in that dead zone, as opposed to right at the center, where Mycroft would be most inclined to look.” Jim explained, smiling brightly at the chance to talk about his work, “Without Big Brother watching, there’s just a worry of being recognized, and people tend to mind their own business. The only real threat would be running into Sherlock, and what’s he going to do? Fight us?” He laughed, “There’s no way he’d win against just one of us even.”

“He’s a judo expert.” John said slowly, “How do you think he wouldn’t win?”

“Because we fight dirty.” Jim winked.

“Well… I probably wouldn’t.” James offered, gazing into the distance, “Just because there’s no fun in fighting when we have our minds, so I doubt he’d bother trying. But if he did, I guess I’d have to. Just to match him. Hmm. It’s hard to imagine a situation like that happening though…”

“I’d punch him in the throat.” Jim said happily, “Two hits, I hit him, he hits the floor. How would you do it, John?”

John frowned, “I wouldn’t hit him ever. He’s my friend.”

“Yeah, but you did tackle him to the floor and head-butt him after his faked death.” Jim said, “And you punched him and strangled him before his visit with Ms. Adler, if I remember correctly.”

“Did you tell him what I told you last night?” John asked James angrily.

“Jim reviews a lot of footage around London, especially keeping tabs on Sherlock’s activities.” James explained, “He just knows what he’s seen.”

“Why, did you confess something about your boundless rage last night, Mr. Furious?” Jim giggled.

“None of your business.” John sniffed.

“Suit yourself. Anyway. Where was I? Oh yeah, why we were all at that store.” Jim smiled, “Richard and I wanted to check on James, we were spending the entire day together.”

“They both live in London, most of the time at least. It was easier for me to commute.” James said gently.

“Even if it was stupid of you to be in the city?”

“You do realize that we have access to snipers, right?” Jim smiled, “We can kill anybody that recognizes us. That’s why each of us always has a security team around when we’re in the city. And when there are three of us, that’s triple the firepower. We could have an entire store recognize us and they’d all be dead in ten seconds flat.”

James looked a little troubled by the thought, mass bloodshed over something easily avoidable seemed excessive to him.

“Is Richard his real name?” John asked, deciding it was best to change the subject.

“Do actors ever use real names?” Jim laughed loudly.

“So he’s really an actor?”

“It’s a hobby. Just like coding is my hobby. And regretting that he never became an astronaut is James’ hobby.”

“Where is he an actor that he wouldn’t get recognized?” John asked, loving the new information, even if Jim wasn’t the person he’d choose to get it from.

“He works in America.” Jim said smugly, “They don’t give a fuck about world issues there. Even with James’ face on every screen in England, no one even noticed that he looked the same as a fairly famous actor.” He leaned in, voice lowering, “He does advertisements for Spencer Hart, Gucci and Ray Ban. He even has a house in Hollywood. And I heard he’s going to be in a movie with Benedict Cumberbatch, but he hasn’t confirmed it yet.”

“Living the dream.” James said sarcastically, “Though those brands are pretty nice. I wear them for the Moriarty persona.”

“I’d kill anyone for a chance to meet Benedict Cumberbatch.” Jim said, eyes a little dreamy, “He’s so pretty. In a weird, alien way.”

“You’d kill anyone for free, that’s not much of a leap.” James teased.

John laughed at the absurdity of the situation and how amazing it was to see their banter, and James wrapped an arm around John’s shoulders, smiling at him proudly.

“I wouldn’t want to be an actor, but Richard handles the fame pretty well.” James said to John.

“Does he have fans?” John asked.

Both Jim and James rolled their eyes and James explained, “Don’t ask him about them, he’s way too conceited about it. He’ll go on and on about all the fan mail and presents that get sent to him.”

Jim and James mimicked together, “ _I had a whole crowd outside the stage door and they ALL wanted my autograph! I had at least seventeen bouquets in my dressing room! Have you seen this article, they talk about how down-to-earth I am because I wore my backpack to the interview! I use shopping carts just like NORMAL people!_ ”

John laughed loudly, “I wouldn’t have ever suspected after seeing his frightened mouse act. So who’s the oldest?”

“We’re triplets, we’re the same age.” Jim huffed.

“Richard was born first, I was born second.” James smiled at John, “Not feeling too overwhelmed?”

“No, not at all. This actually helps a lot. It takes my mind off of being here.”

“Yikes.” Jim laughed nastily, “After all that bonding and he still hates your guts.”

John shook his head, hand moving to touch James’ arm to reassure him, “It’s not like that. I just miss home.”

James blinked at John’s hand, “I’m not upset. I understand. Things are comfortable there and Sherlock’s harmlessly manic instead of dangerously so.”

“Mostly harmless.” Jim pointed out, “He blasted Magnussen’s brains out. And you still think he respects _you_ enough to not fight physically? Don’t be delusional, James.”

James sighed, withdrawing, “I’d rather not talk about this. Besides, is that really the way to make John comfortable here?”

“I’m fine.” John whispered. He wanted to help in some way, seeing James’ eyes going dull, but it was too late, and James stood, straightening out his clothes.

“I need some time alone in my room to think. John, you can ask Sebastian about activities around the house that are available to you, he’d be more than happy to help out.”

“Leave the door unlocked.” Jim said, suddenly serious. When James didn’t reply and kept walking for the door, he cleared his throat, “James. Leave the door unlocked.”

“Fine.”

John turned to watch James leave the room, at a loss for what had happened. Why were they on the same side one moment, but then the next Jim was needling James about neither Sherlock nor John caring about him? It seemed like if James was suicidal because of his isolation and Jim cared enough to ask him to leave the door unlocked and to have Sebastian refuse sniping work to stay with him permanently, that Jim wouldn’t be cruel enough to encourage the negativity.

“Why did you do that?” John asked quietly.

Jim chewed his lip, eyes fixed on the door, “I don’t know. I care more about being right than keeping the people in my life happy I guess?”

“Awareness is the first step, so at least you know. Are you trying to change?”

Jim looked back at John, considering, “I don’t know. I think so… Let’s go take a walk, okay? I haven’t been around people lately, I get worse when I’m less social.”

Jim stood and offered John his hand. John considered it, wanting to go check on James, but he could hear Sebastian going up to his room and he didn’t want to upset Jim, not with how bloodthirsty he seemed…

John took Jim’s hand and let him lead the way outside.


	7. Chapter 7

Jim led John across the field, a line of dark footprints behind them where their shoes had disturbed the dew on the grass. There was a mist in the air that hadn’t yet been burned off by the low sun and John shivered, ears and nose numb from the cold. He should have probably grabbed a thicker coat…

“Where are we going?”

“Ever had any pets?” Jim asked, looking back at John.

“Er. As a kid we had a cat, but besides that, no. I used to like dogs, but I have bad memories ever since Grimpton.” John considered explaining further, about the hound, but Jim nodded.

“Of course. I keep up with your blog. Must have been a pretty nasty thing.”

“You… read my blog. Why?”

“Eh. We’re all fans of Sherlock, aren’t we? I like getting all the perspectives of him. And it’s nice to have such information so easily accessible too, normally I have to hack or send my brothers out on investigations to get such a personal scoop, but you tell the entire world. Thank you.” Jim grinned.

“You’re welcome.” John said, not really meaning it. Jim had such a strange way of speaking, haltingly, with a more pronounced lilt, but an added softness to his voice, since he was used to not using it or only using it in indoor environments. It added to his youthful look. A soft-voiced IT professional in his twenties. His methods were also strangely detached, it reminded John of Mycroft, overseeing through a computer screen from an office chair and sending out his brothers to do the legwork. Keeping tabs on those that posed threats with security footage. It was strange to think that people like Mycroft weren’t the only ones that watched over London.

Jim didn’t pick up on John’s tone, taking his words at face value, “And it offers such a compelling medium. Blogging like you do is so much more intimate than posting a recounting of the facts like Sherlock does, his way lacks soul and intrigue and romance and mystery, I’d read your blog over his any day, even if your writing style leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Do your brothers read my blog as well, or do you just… keep them updated?” John asked, a little snubbed by the dig at his writing.

“Oh no, not really. Richard is quite busy and James is a purist, he only reads Sherlock’s blog. You know how he is, so logical, I don’t blame him for struggling to appreciate more creative works.” Jim rambled and John tuned him out, focusing ahead. They seemed to be heading for some stables and he wondered if perhaps this was just Jim’s way of luring him to a remote location to kill him. He seemed like the type.

Hopefully it would be over quickly, John thought, feeling strangely resigned. With everything else that had happened, why not murder on top of it?

“… It’s a shame he died before the movie started getting produced, someone who wasn’t even familiar with his work got to revise the screenplay and you can totally tell that it’s nothing like the original books.” Jim shrugged as he pulled the stable doors open, then headed inside, “What a trainwreck. But what can you do, right?”

“What do you keep in here?” John whispered, peering into the room. It was warm thanks to the heaters that were installed and he moved further in to soak up as much of it as he could.

“Dirk, Ferrero and Réaltra.” Jim strode into the room, opening up the first stall and gesturing for John to take a look.

Inside there was a huge horse - brown with white markings - that towered over John and gave him a disinterested snort. John blinked in shock.

“Oh my god. Which one is this then?”

“Dirk. He’s mine.” Jim said proudly, “I think the name has a good Scottish dagger feel to it. Besides, I like detectives and Douglas Adams, if you haven’t noticed yet, so of course it’s a reference to Dirk Gently.” He laughed, adding self-deprecatingly, “I’m talking about Douglas Adams’ work too much, I know that. I’m trying not to.”

“I don’t mind.” John smiled, petting Dirk’s cheek, “So you read a lot?”

“Nearly always, if I’m not working.” Jim hummed, “I don’t really get along with most people. I get too passionate about seemingly unimportant things like cereal and I talk too much about my special interests. It’s boring for them to be around. Hah. And I don’t like them much either.”

John looked back at Jim, “So you spend all your time at home on the computer instead?”

“Yes.” Jim frowned, trying to figure out John’s expression, “It’s a place that I can interact with people on my terms. I don’t feel tired messaging my friends online and they understand when I get overwhelmed and they like the same things that I do so we can talk about them. It… makes me happy. More than not fitting in does. I mean, look at James. He can’t find a connection anywhere and he’s a mess, I know I sound like a freak that talks to total strangers for fun but at least I’m not suffering.”

John’s eyes softened, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, Jim. I’m glad to learn more about you. I was a little intimidated at first…”

“Really?” Jim seemed pleased, “That’s good, I was worried I was losing my touch. I just do that to drive people off so I don’t have to talk to them.”

John felt a little better about Jim, he actually seemed pretty tame now… “Thank you for bringing me out here. Will you show me the other horses?”

“Of course.” Jim took a moment to kiss Dirk’s nose, then he headed to the next stall, “This is Ferrero. He’s Richard’s.”

“Ferrero, like Ferrero Rocher?” John laughed.

Jim nodded enthusiastically, “When we were kids and we first got them, he thought Ferrero Rocher was the poshest thing in the world and he wanted a horse with an appropriately classy name. I think in retrospect he kind of regrets that, it’s proof that he hasn’t always been the perfect star that he is today. Looks like he was a tacky kid like everyone else.”

The horse was just as big and pure white, giving John an expectant look.

“He wants you to pet him, he’s an attention whore just like Richard.”

John nodded and obeyed, starting to pet the gorgeous animal’s neck, and Ferrero’s eyes closed at the attention.

“He’s beautiful. They’re all beautiful. Who takes care of them?”

“James mainly, but I visit as often as I can stomach.”

Ferrero moved to nuzzle John’s face and John smiled brightly, feeling giddy at being acknowledged by such an impressive creature, “Your parents bought them for you?”

“When we lived in Ireland. But then we moved and they were sold to a farm…” Jim bit his lip, “James promised us that he’d get them back as soon as he could support them and he never breaks his promises.”

“How long were you without them?”

“We moved away when we were thirteen. Together, with all of our talents, we were able to find very lucrative jobs by the age of eighteen and James immediately bought them and had them brought here. To England, not this house specifically.”

“I was going to say it was funny to think he’d get a house of his own so young.” John joked.

“Yeah, it wasn’t until he was twenty that he bought this place.” Jim said cheerfully, completely serious.

John had a sudden realization of his own inadequacy next to James and his brothers. Oh god. They really were geniuses. What an idiot he must look like to them. Still living in a flat with a roommate at thirty eight when they were all so successful and brilliant.

How James must look down on him. He probably thought it was funny to see John act like he understood his demons when he had no experience being isolated by his intelligence.

John felt so foolish.

“Oh.”

Jim frowned, head tilting in confusion, “John? Did I do something to upset you?”

“Not at all, Jim. You’re doing a really great job, I’m glad you’re even making the effort to talk to me.” John said softly, returning to his side even though Ferrero was whinnying and staring at him longingly, “And the next one?”

Jim seemed unsure but he moved to the next stall anyway, “This is Réaltra. He’s James’.”

The horse inside was pitch black with white speckles and when the door opened, he turned to look at them, eyes piercing and locked on John.

“Réaltra?” John asked, voice a murmur.

“It means galaxy.”

“It’s certainly appropriate.” John offered Réaltra his hand and slowly he moved closer, sniffing at him, “Thank you for showing them to me. It’s really nice.”

“Oh, we’re not just looking at them, silly. We’re going for a ride.” Jim said brightly, going off to get saddles.

“What? No way! They’re huge and I don’t know how to ride!” John protested.

“You’ll take Ferrero, he’s the sweetest and easiest to ride. Réaltra is a bit feisty and Dirk is just plain childish.”

“I’ll just fall off and look completely ridiculous! You’ve been riding since you were a kid, it’s not fair!”

“Has anyone ever told you that life isn’t fair?” James’ voice came from the doorway and John looked over, face going red.

“Your brother is making me ride a horse!”

“Not a horse! He certainly has hereditary tendencies of the most diabolical kind.” James teased, watching Jim move around John and start to ready Ferrero.

“James! I’m being serious!” John said angrily, “What if I break a bone?”

James tutted, “A criminal strain runs in my brother’s blood, John. Rendered infinitely more dangerous by his extraordinary mental powers. If I were you, I’d watch out.”

“You’re mocking me!” John scowled, “Don’t make me do this. I just want to relax while I’m here.”

“I thought you were being held hostage, you aren’t here to have fun.” Jim reasoned, moving to grab John and dragging him over to the horse.

John struggled, kicking a little and trying to fight the inevitable.

“A true Napoleon of crime.” James said in a mocking voice, “He is the organizer of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in the great city of London…”

“James, help me!” John shouted as Jim manhandled him up onto the saddle and handed him the reins. Ferrero snorted and flicked his ears at the yelling but otherwise he remained calm. Jim crossed his arms and stared up at John with a smug look on his face.

“The greatest schemer of all time.” James continued sweetly, moving to the end stall and starting to saddle Réaltra up as well, “The organizer of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld…”

“A brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations!” Jim chimed in, preparing Dirk.

“Neither of you are funny! I can’t believe you’re betraying me like this.” John hissed at James.

Jim tutted, “Oh John. Poor, naïve John. Is James not the celebrated author of The Dynamics of an Asteroid? A book which ascends to such rarefied heights of pure mathematics that it is said that there is no man in the scientific press capable of criticizing it? Watch what you say about him, he’s not a man to traduce.”

John pouted, looking down at Ferrero’s neck and avoiding any looks that James gave him, no matter how apologetic. Assholes. Brilliant, genius assholes. Why did every person in John’s life end up the same?

“I think he’s quite upset with you.” Jim chuckled, swinging up into the saddle and kicking Dirk to get him to head out of the stables.

James sighed, urging Réaltra to walk in front of Ferrero’s stall so he could address John, “Does this really bother you?”

“I don’t like being ignored.” John growled through his teeth, staring away, “I’m not a child, you need to listen to me.”

“Of course.” James said gently, adjusting his position to get more comfortable, “Would you rather head back to the house?”

John didn’t respond.

“Because… you’re free to. I’ll even help you down.”

John felt slightly annoyed that his worry over being unable to get down on his own was so obvious but he still didn’t speak.

“But you know… Ferrero really does need the exercise. And it would be a lot easier on us to run them all at the same time… And he likes you a lot.”

John’s lips quirked a little and he glanced at James, “Really?”

“Of course. He’s glad to finally be carrying someone who’s so level-headed and kind.” James grinned and John was struck by how his eyes appeared golden brown again, like they had been at the store, rather than empty black.

“Oh.” John laughed, thankful for the attempt at an apology. He moved to pet Ferrero’s neck, “Well that’s sweet of him. I like him too.”

“Come on, John. We’ll have fun together. I’d like for you to be there.” James smiled winningly and John felt any remaining reservations he’d had dissipate.

“I’ll try my best. Just don’t laugh at me.”

“No promises, I’d hate to break it and betray your trust.” James winked, kicking Réaltra into a trot, and John did his best to follow, heart racing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James and Jim are quoting descriptions of Professor Moriarty from The Final Problem and The Valley of Fear. How meta.


	8. Chapter 8

Maybe riding wasn’t so bad. John didn’t actually mind it too much once he got into the rhythm of it, Ferrero swaying beneath him at a nice steady walk. James and Jim had already raced ahead, their horses full of pent up energy, but John didn’t mind much, just ambling along the path. Thankfully Ferrero didn’t seem to mind either, happy to go at John’s pace if it meant his neck was being stroked.

The forest was so beautiful with the ground covered in leaves ranging from deep crimson to blinding yellow, contrasting sharply with the grass. Above, the trees were nearly bare and the sun streamed through the thin branches, the warmth of the day replacing the chilly morning mist. John removed his coat and tied it around his waist then went back to petting Ferrero when he glanced back curiously.

The path wound gradually away from the house, across picturesque streams and past meadows that John thought must look quite incredible in the springtime, taking them in a full circle until they once again reached where they’d begun and John allowed Ferrero to make his way across the field towards the stables, trusting his judgement.

James was waiting outside and when he caught sight of John he began to jog towards him, calling out when he got close enough, “Was it alright? He was gentle, wasn’t he?”

John nodded, relief flooding him. God, that was probably the wrong reaction to seeing James Moriarty. Not that it could be helped.

“He was very calm, he didn’t try to run at all. Though he was demanding I pet him the entire time, is that usual for him?”

James laughed as he reached them, reaching up to scratch behind Ferrero’s ears, “He certainly doesn’t do it with me, you’re spoiling him.”

“Jim said he’s a bit of an attention whore, I thought that’s what I was supposed to do.”

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t mean I give in. Now he’s going to expect it from you.” James offered John his hand, “Want to hop down? I should run him while he’s still saddled.”

“Oh…” John considered James’ hand, then glanced at Ferrero, “Really? I’m kind of enjoying myself.”

“Well, if you insist.”

John didn’t expect James to then swing himself up into the saddle behind him, pressing intimately close and reaching around him for the reins. James looked over John’s shoulder and leaned forward, pressing John so he was leaning too, then kicked Ferrero.

It suddenly clicked in John’s mind what was going to happen.

Ferrero took off like a bullet and John would have screamed if he wasn’t gripping fistfuls of his mane to keep steady, a steady stream of expletives running through his mind. Even though John’s posture was incredibly ridged he could feel James right behind him, taking each stride with graceful, practiced ease, and his shifting helped minimize John’s discomfort at the rough ride.

They tore across the field and back into the forest, all the colors a blur around them, nothing but the sound of Ferrero’s hooves and heavy breathing around them. John’s heart was in his throat and he laughed feebly, sure he was white as a sheet by now.

He could feel James smile and he had a powerful urge to punch him right off of Ferrero’s back, considering that John’s feet were the ones in the stirrups it shouldn’t be too hard to knock him off, but then he’d be stuck trying to manage the beast on his own and John wasn’t remotely ready for that.

Once the initial fear ebbed, John became more aware of just how close James was. Pinning him with his body, arms wrapped around his torso, their cheeks brushing slightly. He was even able to feel what was most likely the outline of James’ cock in the leg of his trousers against his backside and John cringed.

Hopefully it was just a gun. He’d be a lot more comfortable thinking that James was carrying a loaded weapon around over entertaining the possibility that he actually had a penis, one that worked and everything. God. John had been thinking of Moriarty as an entity for too long that being confronted with something so human was pretty shocking.

James shifted as they rounded a corner and John winced. That was definitely not a gun.

They soon made it back to the stables and John was immensely grateful for the chance to get away before he started thinking too much about how the entire experience made him feel far too tingly and hot. James slowed up and waited for Ferrero to stop before he climbed down, offering John his hand.

“Don’t look so embarrassed, it was bound to happen sometime, John.”

John needed a few moments to realize that James was in fact talking about riding so fast, rather than… what he’d been worrying about. He took his hand and began to extract his numb legs from the stirrups.

“Dr. Watson.”

James looked confused and he tilted his head, wondering what had brought on the sudden change. When John didn’t explain and immediately extracted his hand once he was safely on solid ground, firmly avoiding his gaze, James’ eyes hardened.

“Of course, Dr. Watson. Maybe you should head inside, I won’t trouble you with the horses again.” James said stiffly as he took Ferrero’s reins and led him into the stable, jaw set.

John clenched his fists, trying to keep his resolve. He’d corrected him without really thinking, just trying to put some distance between James and his feelings, but now he felt like he was being too harsh…

What was he thinking? Too harsh? With James Moriarty? He wasn’t here to make friends, he was a hostage and soon enough Sherlock or Mycroft would track him down and rescue him from this place, he was certain of it. John ignored how much it hurt to watch James taking his rejection so hard and instead marched back towards the house, not looking back.

He’d been kidnapped by these people, just because they were being nice didn’t mean they hadn’t brought him here to begin with. They’d stolen him from his home and were keeping him against his will, how James could even think that John actually wanted him to call him by his first name just because he’d said it while high was beyond him.

Sebastian was swimming laps but when he saw John storming his way he broke the surface and moved to cling to the edge, “How did it go?”

“Fine.” John reluctantly stopped.

“Fuck, you’re so brave. I saw you and James just take off, I’d have passed out.” Sebastian laughed breathlessly, “I won’t go anywhere near those things no matter how much they pay me.”

“You’re afraid of horses?”

“Fuck yeah! Look at them with their freaky faces and teeth.” Sebastian shuddered, “Jim said you didn’t want to ride them at all once he got back with James, but still you managed it… Are you shaking?”

John laughed, finally registering just how frightened he still was, “Yeah, I guess so. They forced me into it, the bastards.”

“Jesus, I’ll talk to them for you.” Sebastian assured, “I won’t make you out to be a crybaby or anything, I’ll just say that they shouldn’t be so rough with you. Unnecessary stress is bad for you, they should know that.”

“Thanks, I just want to get this over with and get home.” John said quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets, “But the horse was pretty nice once I got used to him. Ferrero. He’s Richard’s right?”

“Yeah. It’s funny, Richard has the funds and the space to keep him at his place in Hollywood, but he never even offered. I wonder if he’s too lazy to take care of him.”

“If he has money, he could have other people take care of him.” John reasoned, looking over his shoulder at the stables where James had turned Ferrero loose to wander with Dirk and Réaltra, “Maybe he just doesn’t want to split all the horses up. They seem to get along well.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Sebastian shrugged, “They got them all at the same time and from the same place, I’m told. It makes sense.”

“Do you think they’re brothers too?” John said wistfully.

“The horses? Er… I doubt it. I’m pretty sure horses only have one baby at a time and they look the same age to me.”

“Maybe they have the same father then.”

Sebastian looked out at the horses playing with one another, then back to John, “You ride a horse once and suddenly you want their whole life story, come on. Don’t worry about it.”

“I just find it sweet that Richard would value their little family over having his pet close by.” John smiled at Sebastian.

“John, you don’t even know Richard. You met him, what, two times? I’ve been around him plenty and I can tell you right now that he’s a vain, whiny, snobbish Hollywood-type. He doesn’t care about anybody, he probably doesn’t want to deal with arranging to fly a horse out to California. Not many places to run them around either I’d imagine.”

John’s face fell and he sighed, “You’re probably right, I haven’t been thinking straight ever since I got here. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Sebastian winked, “Want to hop in with me?”

“Give me a chance to change and I’ll be right back. I could use a distraction.”


	9. Chapter 9

John didn’t see James for the next few days. He swam in the pool, ate his meals downstairs, hung out with Sebastian and Jim, visited the horses and let Jim teach him about how to care for them, determined not to back down or hide. It was relaxing to settle into a good pattern and John just had to keep reminding himself that reaching out to James was a disaster waiting to happen.

One evening, John and Jim were sitting up on the roof, eating some fresh pizza that Sebastian had driven out to pick up, when Jim trailed off from describing the plot of some book and said something unexpected.

“You like the horses, don’t you?” He was staring up at the sky.

John looked over in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“The horses… Because if I’m bothering you, I don’t have to take you out there anymore. I just like spending time with you and I want you to have a good time when you’re with me and if you hate being around them then I won’t make you anymore.” Jim turned to look at his lap, anxiously picking at the tear on his jeans.

“Of course I like them. Ferrero is the sweetest animal I’ve ever met and I love hearing you talk about them and the care they need, you’re a very responsible owner.” John said earnestly, “Jim, what brought this on? Why would you think that I don’t like them?”

Jim picked harder, “It’s just that I thought we were having a lot of fun together, you and I. I thought you liked spending time with me out there. But then Sebastian told me that I was too rough with you, making you get on when you were saying no, and James said that you were so upset with him for making you ride fast… I’m not very good at reading people’s emotions. I thought we were all having a fun time that day, I thought it was a joke. James was acting like it was funny and he usually helps me figure out how to best react to people, so I just assumed it was okay. But when they told me you didn’t like the horses or riding, I remembered how scared I was when we first started riding and I realized that you were probably really scared to be on Ferrero because he’s so big and I realized that you’re probably uncomfortable seeing them again and again…”

He blinked hard, eyes tearing up, “I’m really sorry, John. Dr. Watson. I shouldn’t have been so rough and I wish I understood emotions better so I didn’t scare you like that. I really did think we were just having fun, do you think we can still be friends? I’ve never met somebody willing to listen to me talk about my interests so much like I do, you’re really special and I don’t want to lose that.”

John’s chest felt like it might collapse and he set his plate down, moving closer to rub Jim’s back, “Hey now, we can still be friends! I’ve been having a lot of fun spending time with you and the horses, I don’t want to stop just because of a little misunderstanding. Mostly I just didn’t want to look stupid in front of you or James. I thought I’d probably fall off and you’re both so brilliant, I didn’t want you to look down on me anymore than you already do for being clumsy as well as stupid.”

Jim looked up, tears rolling down his cheeks, “Really? I don’t think you’re clumsy or stupid at all. I wish I could be more like you, you’re so… nice and likable. You can make friends with anybody and you have these great adventures with Sherlock and I just sit on my computer all day… I wish I understood emotions and I wish I could stand being in public without having a panic attack, or at least I wish I had a really cool power like Sherlock does so maybe people would tolerate me being so messed up because I could help them.” He sniffled hard and rubbed his face with his hands, “I’m not normal, Dr. Watson. I’m a freak. I want you to think I’m amazing but I can’t even fake it.”

John could barely breathe. He was remembering vividly the way James had turned on him the first night that he’d arrived, hissing in his face that he wasn’t normal and that he wasn’t going to change who he was for anybody. It suddenly made much more sense, it wasn’t just about being proud of who he was, it was also about being protective of his little brother who was upset that he didn’t know how to behave quite like everybody else.

“You aren’t a freak.” John whispered, catching Jim’s hand in his own, “Listen to me. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re different but it doesn’t mean you should feel ashamed. You’re a beautiful, passionate person with a good heart. I’m proud of you for considering my comfort when Sebastian and James brought up what had happened, but if I’m not happy, I swear that I’ll tell you immediately. You don’t need to worry about hurting me.  We’re going to be friends for a long time, alright?”

Jim nodded slowly, moving to hug John after a moment, “Thank you so much. Thank you, Dr. Watson. You’re wonderful.”

“Please call me John.”

“John…”

John hugged Jim for several minutes, petting his short hair and feeling his tears soak his shirt but not minding at all. His first impression had been wrong. Jim was only standoffish and threatening to protect himself from making mistakes, but now that he’d gotten close to John, he was trying his best to help him be comfortable. He actually cared.

“If you really want to learn how Sherlock works like he does… maybe I could introduce you.” John said quietly.

Jim leaned back, hiccupping quietly, “Really? You would do that for me?”

John smiled, “Of course. He loves fans and I’m sure you’d be a quick study with how smart you are…”

“That would be nice.” Jim allowed himself a small smile, “But I don’t think he’d want to teach me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m Moriarty.”

John couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. With how sweet Jim had been acting towards him for the past few days, he’d come to see him more as a friend, but it was true…

“I’ll see what I can do. Yeah? He’s not really concerned with morality either and he admires you a lot. You and your brothers, what you’ve created together is quite impressive. I can probably talk him around. And really, you just have to give him a few compliments and he’ll be putty in your hands.”

“So you really think he might like me?”

“Definitely. Especially with that innocent smile of yours, you can fool anybody into trusting you.” John teased and gently nudged Jim.

Jim beamed, “Thank you. I’m really glad you’re here, even if it’s not much fun for you. I know you want to go home…”

“Yeah, I do want to go home, but that doesn’t mean I’m not having a great time. You’ve been really kind to me, Jim. I didn’t expect for this experience to be so pleasant and you’ve really made it special. You and Sebastian and… James.” John sighed.

“Hey, John? Why does James think that you hated riding if you were really just worried about falling?”

“Because I snapped at him over something stupid and I probably shouldn’t have. It didn’t have to do with the horses, it had to do with myself and how I feel.” John shook his head, looking back at the sky, “But I haven’t apologized because it’s for the best. I don’t want to delude myself into thinking we could be friends when he already told me he isn’t capable of empathy. He’s unattached. Really unattached. Worse than even Sherlock or myself and I don’t know if anybody can help him. I’d just get hurt.”

Jim chewed his lip, watching John closely, “He seems to really like you.”

“Yeah right. Because I’m new and interesting right now, but once he figures me out, he won’t care.” John muttered, “I can’t believe I told him that I understood how his isolation feels. I don’t remotely feel it on the scale that he does, he probably thinks I’m so idiotic. Just an ordinary person thinking they understand but not really getting it.” He shrugged, “I’m a mess and he’s a bigger mess and I’m not remotely important enough for him to be interested in me… Of course he’d want someone that actually gets it.”

“Wait, who are you talking about?” Jim tilted his head.

“Sherlock.” John laughed and tried to hide the fact that he’d begun to cry, “The way he talks about him, I just know that I’m too stupid to get on their level… God. I hate myself so much. James took me to his room and we got high and I kissed him because I thought that he might think I was worth the trouble but I’m not, I know I’m not. I’m just a broken soldier and he’s brilliant and of course he want someone like him.”

Jim wrapped his arms around John and hugged him to his chest, tearing up in sympathy, “John… I’m so sorry. Please don’t say those things about yourself, I don’t see you that way, I don’t think James does either… But even if he does, who cares, right? You’re still strong and kind and smart in your own way. You’ve got a lot of people that care about you and want you to succeed and I know you’re going to. You’re stronger than anyone else I’ve ever met.”

John nodded slowly, not really believing the words but trying to look positive for Jim’s sake, “Thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, getting so upset over a stranger.”

“I don’t know either, but it’s okay. You aren’t weird.” Jim smiled slightly, “We’ve got each other, right? You’re going to get through this and you’re going to go back home and you’ll be happy.” He moved to kiss John softly on the cheek, then he looked back up at the stars.

“Sorry. I appreciate that you care about my interests and want to be around me, that’s all.”

John smiled, feeling a bit better, and he moved to kiss Jim’s cheek, “You need to be more confident you know.”

“Not everyone can just choose to be confident.” Jim said softly and kept his eyes up to avoid calling attention to his blush and shaking hands.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” John murmured. He had no idea what he was doing. What the fuck was he doing, was he really trying to kiss yet another Moriarty? After he was trying so hard to avoid the first one?

“Yes.” Jim whispered.

John caught Jim’s face in his hands and pulled him close, lips warm and moving slowly. Jim was a little slow to get comfortable from lack of practice but John took his time and before long he was experimenting on his own, one hand cupping John’s cheek, the other sliding down his chest, and John smiled against his lips. Jim was so tentative and innocent and passionate about the things he loved, with a soft voice and soft lips and soft hair and soft faded shirts, but at the same time cynical and calculating and ruthless, the mastermind behind Moriarty’s entire online persona, dark eyes and ripped jeans and clever fingers that easily linked strands of the web to one another and snipped them apart as soon as they were unnecessary, the man that paged instructions to the people strapped to bombs and who spoke in the ear of the old woman, the man who was messaging General Shan that gratitude was only the expectation of further favors before having her killed, the man who rigged the jury for James’ trial.

And John couldn’t get enough of him.


	10. Chapter 10

John spent the rest of the evening kissing Jim before finding his way back to his room in a blissed out stupor, too happy to question his choices.

The next morning, feeling guilty and a little ashamed of what he’d done, he went to confront James, pounding on his door and crossing his arms when he heard movement on the other side.

It swung open and James was there, in only a t-shirt and boxer briefs, glaring irritably at John for being awoken before he was ready. John’s mouth went dry.

“What do you want, Dr. Watson?” James muttered when it became clear that John wasn’t going to speak.

“I… Er… Wanted to apologize for how I treated you a few days ago.”

“What’s there to apologize for?” James straightened up more and crossed his arms, “It’s my fault. You were uncomfortable, I forced you to ride the horse anyway.”

“If you think that it’s your fault, why have you been avoiding me?”

“There’s no point in apologizing. I thought it was harmless, that you’d be startled at first but you’d gradually warm up to the idea. I didn’t realize that you’d be so upset. I think I’ll probably keep making the same miscalculation in the future. Besides, what good would come of this?”

John smiled humorlessly, “You know, I was trying to convince myself of the same thing these past few days. I would… enjoy being around you. And my overreaction didn’t have to do with the horse, I was just… I don’t like having men pressed up against me like that.”

“Good thing I’m not a man at all.” James smiled cryptically, “I’m a spider, remember?”

John giggled quietly, taken aback by the unexpected response, but he decided to nod and go with it, “Sure. Why not? I just… generally don’t feel attracted to people who… have penises.”

“You felt me up and it put you off?” James raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean, you were pressed up against me on the horse and it made me think about – well, no, it reminded me of sex and I – wait, I mean, I felt you and I thought that you might think that I was interested in, er, people with penises, because of the kiss and those pictures, but I’m really not.”

James rolled his eyes, deciding to not argue over the particulars and instead focused on the bigger picture, “Okay then, I get what you’re trying to say.”

“Oh God, good.” John smiled in relief, “I’m straight, you know? I like women.”

“Of course, Dr. Watson.”

“I just took those pictures because I like how my arse looks, can you blame me?”

“Not at all.”

“I was just really high when I, er, kissed you. I don’t really try that normally.”

James’ smile twitched, “So is why you were kissing my brother last night then?”

Fuck.

“Were you _spying_ on me?” Yes, shifting the blame was certainly the best way to handle this situation.

“Not at all.” James laughed coldly, “Sweet little Jimmy came to _brag_ about it to me once you’d skipped off to bed. But let me guess, you aren’t certain about his genitals yet so you’re still holding out hope?”

John glared, angry tears threatening to roll down his cheeks, “I hate you.”

“Yup, got that message loud and clear when I put it together that the problem clearly isn’t my looks or my criminal empire or even my cock, since my brother has all three. It’s a flaw in my personality. So why don’t you get out of my room and go back to Jim and try not to say anything ableist to him, hmm?” James said sarcastically.

John’s bottom lip quivered, “I wanted to apologize to you for overreacting. And I… I didn’t mean to kiss him either, it just happened. I’m straight.”

“Pretty funny mistake to make twice.” James muttered, “You should stop lying to yourself. But until you do, I’d like to get back to sleep if you don’t mind.”

“I’m not lying to myself. I want to be your friend, but please don’t push up against me like that anymore. And don’t try to kiss me, I don’t want it.” John insisted.

“Fine. I wasn’t planning on kissing you, but if it makes you feel better, I promise I won’t.”

John felt weak. After what he’d said last night, about wanting James but knowing he probably couldn’t have him, he was so confused. Why was he thinking these things, why was he doing these things? He was a grown man that knew what he wanted, he was too old for experimentation at this point. Right? So why did he feel so desperate for James’ attention and affection and touch? Why did Jim feel so nice last night, why was he so comfortable cuddling up with him to watch movies?

Why did it hurt to hear that James hadn’t even been planning on kissing him when John was doing the rejecting?

“Okay. Good.”

John stayed still for several more moments, staring at James’ chest as his eyes filled with more tears. What was wrong with him? What was happening?

“Dr. Watson.” James’ voice was soft and John blinked hard, hating himself for how it made his stomach twist, “Please don’t cry. I understand that you’re feeling a lot of confusing emotions right now, but you’ll sort them out. I’m sorry for saying that you would say something offensive to Jim, I know that you’re being careful around him and I appreciate that. Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t understand. I’m too old to be this confused, I should know what I am. And I don’t want to live with that burden of being different. It’s dangerous to feel this way, my family wouldn’t approve… I just want to be happy.”

“It’s never too late to figure out who you are. Come on. I’m going to go back to sleep, but maybe you’d like to get high or look at the stars or something… The view from the balcony is nice as well…” James smiled encouragingly and John felt his cares melt looking into those beautiful eyes.

“I’d like that.”


	11. Chapter 11

Absolutely nothing could have prepared John for being confronted by the real Richard Brook. He’d been acting so timid during their first meeting, he’d been pretty mellow their second, but their third…

James had fallen back asleep and John relaxed into his side, watching the stars above and feeling at peace. His mind had quieted down some and he was much less insecure about being beside James, even if he still didn’t yet understand what was going on in his head. He focused on how happy he was, how special it was to be allowed this close at all. James actually trusted him enough to be unconscious around him, when he could easily strangle him for a chance at freedom.

Not that James really seemed to mind the thought of dying.

“Jamie! I’m home!” The door was kicked open and Richard strode in.

John sat up and stared.

Richard was wearing a tight fitting black V-neck, cut off just right to show off his lovely biceps. Dramatic pointed red shoulder guards swooped off on either side of him like wings. Lower, he had on red shorts, black tights that hugged every inch of his perfect legs, and red boots to his knees with slight heels that made him look taller. He was like a sex god.

His hands settled on his hips and when John finally tore his eyes away to look at his face, he had a wicked smirk on his face.

“Enjoying the view?”

And his face… Richard had on dark red eyeshadow, expertly winged eyeliner and his fluffed up hair was dyed a purple so dark that it was nearly black. It made him look otherworldly and absolutely stunning.

“I thought you were an actor.” John blurted out.

Richard moved from jutting one hip out to jutting out the other and John realized that every pose he took was expertly chosen to show off his best features, which were all of them, but mainly his legs. Christ.

“Of course I am.”

“You… Your hair though?” John was confused. Hollywood seemed vaguely progressive but was it this progressive? Besides, how could an actor get work with purple hair, even if he changed his outfit and skipped the makeup?

Richard tilted his head back and laughed musically. John wasn’t sure if it was genuine.

“It’s not normally this color, darling. I’m on holiday though and I thought I’d treat myself.” He winked, “Don’t look so surprised.”

“John, if you’re going to talk to him, please get him out of here.” James’ voice was muffled by his pillow.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Jamie.” Richard chuckled, offering John his hand, “Let’s get out of here before he gets any more upset.”

John took Richard’s hand, barely keeping his footing as he stood on numb legs. He’d never seen anyone quite so glamorous and he was a little star struck. Richard led him out of the bedroom and John followed obediently, trying to think of something smart to say.

Before he could, Richard tugged John into one of the other guest bedrooms, closing the door behind them and walking over to his suitcase on the bed, “Just let me change, we’ll talk in a moment, honey.”

 _Honey_. John’s entire body buzzed with the attention. How had he not realized how amazing Richard was those last few times? The way he bent over the bed in a way that showed off his perfect ass and legs was downright sinful and John’s mouth went dry.

Richard began to strip and John swayed.

“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

Richard laughed again, this time a little less over the top, “I dressed up for the flight, I wanted to piss my manager off. But now I’m home, I want to relax. All this gets a little overwhelming, even for me, despite what my brothers would say.” He tossed the shoulder guards onto the bed and arched his back as he pulled his shirt over his head.

John gripped the door behind him to keep upright.

“So what about you? How are you enjoying it here so far?” Richard asked sweetly, pulling on a loose white t-shirt and a leather jacket, then sitting on the bed to tug the boots off.

“Me?” John whispered, startled by the thought of Richard wanting to know anything about him. Him? He meant nothing next to this angel.

“John?” Richard raised an eyebrow at him and stood, hands going to his shorts.

John’s face was burning. He barely managed a nod.

“I need you to breathe.” Richard said sternly, unfastening them and letting them drop to his ankles, leaving him in the tights that left nothing to the imagination. He really did have lovely legs, it was pretty clear he was some kind of dancer from the way he held himself.

The words took a while to register but when they finally did, John obeyed, not even sure when he had stopped. What was the matter with him? This entire image was so unexpectedly exciting, he was pretty sure he was hard. Why? What was it about Richard? Were the makeup and clothes just confusing his mind?

Richard stripped the tights off and moved to pull on a pair of jeans, sighing quietly, “I knew I should have changed before I came here. I normally do, James and Jim and Sebastian think I’m obnoxious but I thought you might find it… I don’t know. Funny? Hmm.” He pulled on some trainers, then disappeared into the bathroom to wash his face, “Don’t know why I’d give a fuck about your opinion.”

John came out of his trance, gazing longingly at the bathroom. Even dressed down, Richard had a star quality and John wanted to be around him, soaking in any attention that was tossed his way.

Why were these brothers confusing him so much?

Richard returned after a few minutes, face scrubbed clean, and with it, his mask was gone and John could see him for the real person that he was rather than the character he’d been projecting. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and slumped shoulders, and he walked over to John, gesturing at his chest with a self-deprecating smile, “Not so impressive anymore, hm?”

John shook his head, “No, I think that’s pretty amazing. You looked so incredible before and your manner was completely different even though you just came off of such a long flight, I can’t even imagine how tiring that must be. You really are a great actor.”

Richard snorted skeptically, “Yeah right. Way to be patronizing. Whatever. I’m going downstairs to eat.”

“Can I come with you?”

“I… suppose.” Richard tilted his head suspiciously as he studied John, trying to figure out his motives, before he moved around him to open the door, “If you want to stare at me some more, why not? Everybody else does already.”

John followed Richard as he walked downstairs, “What do you mean? Don’t you like the attention?”

“You think I like you staring at me like I’m a freak?” Richard scoffed, “I get enough of that from my brothers, thanks.”

“I don’t think you’re a freak, I don’t understand where this is coming from… I think you look stunning. Did I say something wrong?” John frowned, feeling worried.

“Forget about it.” Richard headed into the kitchen, starting to prepare himself a sandwich.

Sebastian was seated at the island, eyes flicking up when they came in, “John, don’t indulge him. He’s just acting out for attention, if you ignore him he’ll stop fussing.”

“Fuck off.” Richard growled under his breath, making his food faster, “Shockingly, I’m not starting shit just for fun.”

“Oh really? You seemed in a good enough mood when you showed up. Are you just upset because no one here fawns over you when you dress up like a skank?” Sebastian chuckled.

Richard glared daggers at Sebastian and John could see that familiar Moriarty temper burning under the icy exterior, “I still pay your wages, Sebastian Moran. It would do you some good to hold your tongue around me. James may have gotten used to your insolence, but keep in mind that I don’t see you often, so I don’t consider you a _pal_. I have no problem slicing your throat in your sleep.”

“And risk James offing himself while you’re prancing around in California? As if.” Sebastian laughed and Richard stormed past him, sandwich in hand, momentarily pointing a finger gun at Sebastian’s head, then heading out the door into the back yard.

John stared after Richard as he headed towards the stables, back rigid.

“I don’t understand what I did wrong…”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, he feeds off of drama.”

“No, I just… I was staring at him because he looked so amazing but he thought I was making fun of him…”

“Amazing? Jesus, John, he’s the family whore, if he’s pitching a fit over the way someone looked at him, he’s just doing it for fun. He’s not genuinely upset, he knows he looks good. Besides, I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

“Go where?”

“You have to have standards. Richard looks alright, but he’s not that great. Especially not when he tarts himself up like that for attention. It’s just so needy and embarrassing. You can do better. Hey, Jim’s a nice kid.”

John shot Sebastian a nasty glare, “What, I can’t feel compassion for someone? Fuck off. He thought I was going to laugh at him like you do, did you ever consider that your unwanted criticism is actually really rude?”

Sebastian laughed, “You’ve met him three times know and you’re so confident that you know him already. Is this like you thinking you know if James can swim or not just because of some bullshit from his past? You aren’t friends with these people. You’re their prisoner. Save yourself the heartache.”

John stormed out after Richard.


	12. Chapter 12

Richard was already settled in Ferrero’s stall when John arrived, leaning against the wall and eating his sandwich as Ferrero nuzzled his neck affectionately. At the sound of the doors reopening, Richard turned to glower in John’s direction.

“I’m an unreasonable bitch, no need to reiterate.”

John chuckled at the unexpected words, joining Richard in the stall.

“I wanted to check up on you. I really wasn’t trying to upset you with my staring. I should probably explain, ever since I got here, feelings that I… I normally repress, have been surfacing. Because of Jim partially, but mainly… James. I know it’s stupid, you know? I’m stupid. And the three of you are brilliant. Besides, I have my normal life to go back to. But when I saw you, I was… hm.” John smiled weakly, not meeting Richard’s eyes, “Well. Any defenses I had up kind of disappeared. I can see why you have fans. I’ve barely seen any of your acting and I’m already hooked because you glow, Richard. Or whatever your name is, since no one will actually tell me. I don’t think you’re a freak, I just don’t know how to handle these urges. But I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

Richard tilted his head as he listened, voice soft when he spoke, “Thank you. I accept your apology. I suppose I’m a little more short-tempered because of the flight, it’s hard to keep the mask up when I’m tired…”

John stuck his hands into his pockets, smiling at Richard kindly, “Want to tell me your real name to break the ice?”

Richard burst into laughter, “Not a chance, otherwise you might realize that I’m not very interesting. You already know I’m insecure, I’ve got to keep something for myself…”

John’s breath caught at the laughter. Neither James nor Jim ever laughed with such wild abandon, Richard was so passionate and unrestrained and confident in an extroverted way, rather than the quiet confidence that James exuded and the lack of it that Jim hid with false indifference.

“I’ve been taking care of your horse while you were gone. Or rather, Jim was teaching me to take care of him. And I’ve taken him for a few rides. He’s really something.”

Richard finished his sandwich off and brushed his hands off on his jeans, “Want to show me what you’ve learned?”

John shook his head quickly, “No, I’m not very good at it. I’ll definitely make a fool of myself. But I really like him. He’s much friendlier then Dirk and, um, the other one.”

Richard smiled, moving to saddle Ferrero up, “I’m glad you like him. I like him too.”

“Jim told me you’re embarrassed by his name.” John teased.

“Did he now?”

“And that you thought Ferrero Rocher chocolates were really posh.”

“Mhmm.”

John grinned, “So, is it true? Or is Jim just fucking with me?”

Richard suppressed a smile, “Well. He believes that it’s true. He’s not just messing around.”

“You let him think that?”

“I’m not a fan of the reminder of how stupid I used to be, but I haven’t changed it since, so it’s not too bad.” Richard moved to kiss Ferrero’s nose and Ferrero butted against him affectionately, “He’s a sweet horse. How could I hate anything about him?”

“If you love him so much, why doesn’t he live with you in California?”

Richard swung up into the saddle and let Ferrero walk forward out of his stall, “He needs attention that I can’t give him with my busy schedule, Johnny. Besides, he likes it here, and James needs as many distractions as he can get. I hope it does him some good looking after them. Since Sebastian can’t do it himself, it’s one thing to get James out of bed when he’s in a slump.”

“Yeah…” John muttered, “I wish I could help with that but. You know.”

“Don’t feel bad, John.” Richard patted his head from his high perch, “You have been helping.”

“No I haven’t. I can’t make a difference. I’m not smart enough to be a lasting distraction, it’s only a matter of time before he figures out every nuance and he gets bored again. I’m ordinary.”

Richard sat still for a few moments, thinking, then he sighed, “You know, James has enjoyed the company of ordinary people in the past without getting bored. Even once he’s figured out their every intricacy, he’ll gravitate towards them anyway. There’s some appeal, not necessarily in being normal, but he’s drawn to struggles unlike his own, people who are isolated but for other reasons than he is. Outcasts. He already has Jim and I figured out but he doesn’t get bored with us, even if we don’t spend our time together debating mathematics or astronomy as I’m sure he’d love.

“Sebastian Moran is an exception. James enjoys his companionship, even if he doesn’t say as much, because Sebastian is a bloodthirsty brute that doesn’t fit into the civilized society that his upper class family does. Sherlock is interesting in the same way, he’s abnormal, and James pities him for being ashamed of it… And there was even Carl Powers. It’s not about being smart, John. James doesn’t give a damn about that, he’s given up on that connection long ago. But you’re different, like us. The point is that you need to embrace it. He doesn’t like the idea of someone not being their true selves. If you accept that you’re not normal, James will respect that.”

John frowned, “Carl Powers?”

Richard closed his eyes, “Hmm. Carl Powers. He wasn’t popular at first. He was so tall and gangly, plus he had eczema for fuck’s sake. You really think the other kids liked him when he looked like he’d been held back several years and his skin was all enflamed? But we were freaks too and James most of all. He sympathized with Carl, he wanted to help him. They were friends.”

“What happened?”

“Eh. What normally happens, right? Carl’s skin cleared up with his medication, he found he had a natural talent for swimming. He joined the swim team and he won tournaments and suddenly he was useful and strong and brave and everyone wanted to be his friend. James thought that Carl would continue to like him despite his newfound popularity, because that’s what best friends were for, right? But to everyone else, James was just that short, stuttering, dead-eyed triplet that watched them all too closely because he was still trying to figure out how to be normal, who never spoke to anybody and spent his breaks reading like he thought he was better than them. They mocked him and Carl went along with it. James was devastated. He’d thought they’d… had something.”

Richard cleared his throat and looked down at John, “Anyway, you know the rest. That’s why he’s not going to bother helping you get in touch with what makes you unique and great, he doesn’t like putting himself out there like that. But if you try, then you have a chance. But don’t compare yourself to Sherlock. You’re perfect for different reasons. Embrace them.”

With that, Richard kicked Ferrero and they headed for the trees.

John stood outside the stables and watched them disappear, slowly working through all the new information he’d been given.


	13. Chapter 13

Richard had given John a lot to think about, so as he rode, John headed back inside the stables to wait.

Was it really wise to take advice from people like this? Sure, embracing one’s differences could be good, but the way they did it was so destructive. And when what made John different put the people around him in danger because of his need for violence, it could be pretty catastrophic.

Maybe Richard didn’t mean embrace it as in letting the need take over, but rather admitting it to himself that he had the need at all and learning to express it in a more healthy way. Maybe it meant not using the people around him as tools to get what he wanted. Maybe it meant coming to terms with these new thoughts.

And even if he did go through with it, what was the reason? Would he really be doing it so that his own life would improve, or was he driven by this insane desire to please James Moriarty? And if he did, what was the point? Impressing Moriarty meant what in the real world? John knew that one of these days, someone was going to save him. And if they didn’t, sooner or later he’d have to make an escape attempt. He couldn’t live here forever without purpose, he was already getting antsy for a good case, and no amount of swimming and horse riding and flirting would change that.

He’d been on the phone with Harry when all this had started after all. Maybe she’d contacted Sherlock right away. His family would be worried, his friends would be worried. He couldn’t just abandon them. And there were things he missed. With Sherlock, John’s life was hectic but still predictable and comfortable. No matter how many times he was awoken in the middle of the night to run off to question some witness or how many times Sherlock left him behind in some random location or how many times their enemies drugged him or tried to shoot him or tied him up or beat him, there was something so familiar about it all. Nothing could really faze John when he was by Sherlock’s side, it was where he was most in his element, and for as fun as it was to get chummy with psychopathic sadists, John felt like he was on a constant rollercoaster around them.

Even if they weren’t exactly the psychopathic sadists that John had thought them to be.

John missed his normal clothes and his normal bed and his normal shows and normal food. He missed cases and Sherlock’s flippant disregard for his well-being and comfort, he missed waking up groggy in the afternoon once the effects of whatever Sherlock had drugged him with that morning had worn off, he missed having Mycroft kidnap him and harass him rather than reaching out to his bratty brother since Sherlock was still convinced that he had a right to be left alone despite proving time and time again that he couldn’t be trusted, John missed being left out of the loop and being made to look stupid in front of others, John missed pretending like he didn’t want to choke the murderers they caught to death before Scotland Yard arrived and having to deny his sexual urges because of his obsession with appearing normal so that no one would ever judge him.

John ground his teeth in frustration. What the fuck was wrong with him? Everything had been fine before, or at least he hadn’t known any better to bother questioning the flaws with his life. It was all he had, so it was good. But now wasn’t the time to start overanalyzing the shit he put up with. It was better than being a prisoner at least. His head was all turned around because of these brothers, they were treating him too decently, making him forget that they were twisted criminals.

They ran a worldwide network arranging various heinous crimes for fuck’s sake! It was Stockholm syndrome, that’s what it was! He was humanizing them because he was traumatized! And John couldn’t believe that he’d fallen for it! That sob story about Carl Powers wasn’t justified at all, a child had committed fucking murder and he was supposed to feel bad because he’d been bullied? It was probably all planned anyway, they wanted John to turn on his friends. No! No matter what Sherlock had done, it wasn’t anything like these monsters. Even if John won James’ interest, what was to say he wouldn’t become the next Carl Powers if he abandoned him for his old life? James – no – Moriarty was not a man to get involved with and then cross.

John stood and brushed himself off. Yes, he had to escape. He couldn’t wait around like a damsel in distress for someone else to save him, pretending that everything was fine here and that he hated his old life. He would keep denying what made him different, if he embraced it he’d just feel more isolated and end up like James Moriarty, a shell of a person without remorse or empathy.

Tonight. Tonight he’d escape from this place.

At the sound of approaching hooves, John jumped, startled out of his thoughts. Richard entered the stables with a bright smile, Ferrero in tow, but now John knew better than to be taken in by his charms. What an idiot he was. He’d show them for doubting him.

“I didn’t think you’d stay here, I was expecting you to go inside. Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes. I was curious about the horses. Which one is the fastest?”

Richard laughed, guiding Ferrero into the stall, “Hmm, probably Réaltra. But he’s not easy to ride. Why, were you thinking of trying it out again?”

John snorted, “No. I just wanted to know which one to avoid completely.”

Richard hummed as he worked, unsaddling Ferrero and cleaning him off, “I see your point. Ferrero is really good for a beginner, but if you’re feeling a little more confident, I’m sure Dirk would go easy on you.”

“Thank you.” John managed a stiff smile.

“Sweetie, are you alright?” Richard asked, looking John over, “You seem distressed. Should I not have told you so much about my brother? I know he’s intimidating, I just think that you could be a really good influence on him. You’re a really kind person, Jim’s told me so much already, and I think you’d… I don’t know. Bring James some happiness. He’s alone so much. If someone was there for him...”

“I have a life.” John cut in, staring at Richard sternly, “I have a home and a family and friends and a job. This is just temporary.”

Richard looked away, eyes tight, “I’m sorry, that’s a lot of burden to place on you, I don’t mean to force you into commitment or something. I know you’re only friends, I’m just so worried about him. I’m not nearly enough. None of us that are already in his life are. I know one of these days he’s going to realize that, he probably already has, and he’s going to see that no one’s ever going to be enough for him without even giving new people a real try and he’s going to…”

John felt sick. Why was Richard doing this to him? He couldn’t hear these things, not when he was so sure now that they were just a way to trick him.

Richard rubbed his face and forced himself to breathe, “Forgive me, I’m sleep deprived. It’s not your fault if something happens. Just forget I said anything.”

“Of course, Richard.” John moved around him and made his way back towards the house, fists clenched, Richard bewildered behind him. He couldn’t give in or he’d be trapped forever.

Inside, Jim looked up from his laptop to smile at John, “Oh, you met Richie already. Isn’t he so cool? I knew you two would get along.”

John dropped the kitchen door behind him, ignoring Jim’s words. He felt terrible. He knew Jim would take it personally, he wanted nothing more than to go back down and apologize, but he couldn’t.

John locked himself in his room and paced, guilt choking him and head throbbing painfully. He couldn’t feel sympathy for these people. They’d caused so much heartbreak and torment in his life. It was James that had forced Sherlock to convince John that he’d died, had put him through two years of agony, not to mention the nightmarish tests of Sherlock’s commitment that endangered and killed so many. And the other two encouraged it, were involved in it, pulled and manipulated the strings of so many lives. Jim and James had even been joking about their position at the stables just a few days before, they thought it was funny to play the Napoleon of crime.

And John hadn’t even batted an eye, just upset about being forced to ride a horse. He was becoming complacent already.

John continued to pace, head swirling with thoughts, reasoning out why he needed to leave, trying to forget about how sweet Jim was to him when they’d watched movies and had kissed, trying to forget about Richard’s worry for his brother and his insecurities, trying to forget about that look of pure joy on James’ face when John had said he’d understood, free of any trace of sarcasm or amusement. He’d genuinely been thankful.

This was the right thing to do.

 

It was a few hours later before there was a knock on John’s door. Once again, he jumped, as if caught in some terrible act besides simply planning escape, and it took some time for his racing heart to settle.

“Um. Who is it?” John cursed the way his voice cracked nervously.

“James.” He sounded so soft and gentle, it didn’t seem like an act. Why was he making it so difficult to do this?

“What do you want?” It came out a little angrier than he’d intended and John held his breath when there were a few moments of silence.

“I wanted to see you. You seem distressed and both Richard and Jim are worried about the way you snapped. They think you’re going to do something drastic.”

John nearly ran for the window right then and there to try making a run for it. He was already found out, how had he expected to hide a plot like this from a house full of geniuses? They knew he was going to run. They were going to take away any false freedom he currently had. Fuck fuck fuck. John dragged his hands through his hair, on the verge of panicking, “Were you spying on me again?”

“No. Why, ha-ave you done something?”

John didn’t answer, praying that James would just leave him alone.

“John?” James spoke again, voice a little more urgent, “Have you hurt yourself? Please say something to me, I’m…” He trailed off and John hesitated, realizing slowly that perhaps they didn’t suspect him after all.

“I’m s-scared, John.”

It was a lie. He didn’t feel anything.

“John?” James repeated, trying the handle, “Please answer me, I want to know that you’re safe.”

“You don’t care about me.” John called.

James sighed shakily, immensely thankful for at least the confirmation that John hadn’t yet done anything. Hopefully. “Are you going to hurt yourself?”

“No, god, stop worrying about that.”

“Okay, I’ll t-t-t… make an attempt.” James bit his lip, blinking at the door, wanting to see John to know that he really was safe, “Please unlock the door.”

“No. I want to be left alone.”

“Don’t kill yourself, John. Dr. Watson. Everyone cares about you so much.” James whispered, running his hand down the door, “Your family back home and your friends. And Sebastian and my brothers. Everyone likes you. You make them all so much happier, you’re helping everybody. You aren’t alone.”

“I’m not going to kill myself.” John said hoarsely as he blinked at the door.

“John?”

“James, go away.”

“John, you’re a hero.” James said it with so much reverence that John wouldn’t have believed it was James had it been under any other circumstances. James didn’t value heroism. It wasn’t something he talked about as if it was a great honor. It was something to be scorned. What was going on?

“I’m what?”

“You’re a hero and a g-g-gr-… better man than most would ever be.” James breathed, “You help everyone. Jim’s so much happier now because his hero believes in him. Sebastian is so much more patient because he has someone that understands. R-Richard is actually opening up about his feelings because you made him see that they mattered. And I didn’t see it before but I see it now. I thought Sherlock kept you around because you were a sounding board or a toy or a trophy to use as p-proof that he had a friend. But I was wrong. I’m was so wrong about you. You get it. You’re like me.”

He laughed breathlessly and without real humor, nearly hysterical, “But instead of bringing everyone down, you strive to fit in, not just because you’re ashamed, but because you don’t want to let this suffering ruin the lives of the people around you. You make a conscious effort to make yourself seem better then you are and it actually makes you a better person for doing it… I don’t believe in morality, but you’re a better person than me.”

James was quiet for several moments and John wiped at his cheeks, dimly aware that he had begun crying.

“D-D-Do-Doctor… Wa-… Wa-…” James broke into laughter again, body tense, hating himself for fucking up.

“John.” John managed.

“John.” James’ face relaxed into a smile, half at being granted permission and half at how easily the word was to say, “John.”

“Were you going to ask me something?”

“I wanted to check that you were still listening.” James bit his lip, “Because this is important. You’re right, we are the same with our burdens, but you handle it so differently. Don’t think you’re anything like me. I’m sure you know why.”

“Why?”

“Because I just drag everyone down. I’m weak. If I really wanted to die, I’d have finished the job already instead of dragging my feet, hoping that I’d find something to keep me alive, making my family suffer by having to pay someone to babysit me and making them worry whenever I miss a call or go to my room… If I’d done it years ago, they’d have moved on by now. But you make them happy. I know it’s a lot to ask of you, because we brought you here against your w-w-will, and you certainly don’t owe them or me any favors, but maybe you could… keep in contact with them? So they keep being brought up by a real hero, you know? They barely know you and Jim’s already in love and Richard is pretty charmed… I think it would be good for them to have someone like you around. But if you don’t want to let these people into your old life, I understand, I know how we must seem to you…”

John opened the door and James let his hand fall, staring at his chest. James’ eyes glistened and he blinked hard to try and clear away the wetness.

“Why are you saying this?” John stared, trying to understand.

“Because they told me you seemed upset and I thought you might be in danger and it scared me.”

“No. Why are you saying I need to keep in contact with them?” Did he know that John was planning to run off?

“I just think it might help them forget about me.” James spoke softly.

“Are you going to hurt yourself?” John was frightened by the thought. He knew he shouldn’t care. Why was he doing this?

James shrugged the questions off, not meeting John’s eyes, “Forget about how much I bring them down, I mean.”

“That’s not what you really mean.” John touched James’ shirt, “I’m not that stupid. You’re going to hurt yourself. James?”

“I want to play something for you.” James reached up to brush John’s hand with his fingers, “Will you let me?”

“I don’t want to say goodbye. This feels like goodbye.”

“Please listen to this song.”

James sounded so desperate and even though John was shaking with fear and worry, he nodded and allowed James to lead him to a room at the end of the hall, a white room with gold accents, full of warm light from the afternoon sun, with instruments and sheet music all placed carefully about. In the center of the room was a grand piano and James released his deathly grip on John’s hand, making his way over to the bench.

“This is known as the Devil’s Trill Sonata. It was written by Giuseppe Tartini, intended for violin, with figured bass accompaniment, and in addition to being an extremely demanding piece, its inspiration comes from a dream that Tartini had in 1713 where he made a deal with the devil for his soul. The devil did many things for Tartini in his dream, but when given his violin, the devil played a sonata so infinitely beautiful that it woke Tartini and he immediately rushed for his violin to try and recreate it. He said it enraptured him, transported him, enchanted him. Tartini also said that the piece, while being the best he’d ever written, still never quite captured exactly what had touched him about the song from the dream… I want to play it for you.”

John rubbed his eyes, realizing that his stutter had gone now that he was talking about something much more comfortable for him, “James…”

“On piano, simply because I have more experience and I don’t want you to associate it with Sherlock’s instrument of choice…” James continued, eyes on the keys.

“Why are you playing it for me at all?”

“Because it’s my favorite piece in the world and I want to share it with you. Please let me have this…”

John nodded mutely, not quite sure how he was still standing.

James began to play. The song started slowly, each note quiet and low, all fitting together beautifully in the silent room. John watched James’ focus, how his eyes seemed distant as he listened to the music, finger plucking out notes with practiced ease, and John could practically hear the violin in the music, the background harpsichord. The music sped up and slowed and filled the entire room and John followed it, truly taken. Dust motes swirled through the glowing, humming air and James’ eyes were golden brown, slowly sliding from the piano to meet John’s eyes.

He smiled and John’s heart stopped. He was like an angel, surrounded by the golden light and the heavenly music, lips pink and slightly upturned, his hair ruffled.

The most beautiful angel.

The first movement came to a peaceful close and for several moments the sustain of the final keys hung in the air. John breathed and he could see James’ entire face light up, thankful that what he was sharing wasn’t boring John.

James looked back down and the second movement began, the notes tumbling over one another, frantic and racing, his fingers moving so quickly that John could barely keep up. James didn’t falter or slip, each movement executed with perfect skill and confidence, a huge unrestrained smile spread across his face. It was manic and overwhelming and John moved to sit, eyes never leaving James.

Lucifer had been the most beautiful angel too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Devil's Trill: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VR6XJsGOF1s


	14. Chapter 14

When the Devil’s Trill at last came to its beautiful close, James looked up at John, breathless and flushed. John watched as his triumphant smile faded into concern and he realized that he had tears streaked down his own cheeks.

“John… What’s wrong? Did you not like it?” James rose and moved to John’s side, kneeling in front of him.

John sniffed hard, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, it was wonderful, I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

“You haven’t ruined it, I wanted to play it for you.”

“It means a lot, no one’s ever shared anything like that with me before.”

“I wanted it to be special, I’m glad it was.”

John rubbed his cheeks, “Please don’t kill yourself, James. I don’t want you to go.”

James watched John closely, “You’ll be returning home soon enough… I don’t want to be forgotten, even though things will change back to how they were.”

John would have felt upset at James rejecting him, but he knew better. It wasn’t a rejection, it was just the truth. Things would go back to normal. John could hardly visit his best friend’s arch enemies for dinner whenever he wanted. Did James know about his plan?

“Don’t kill yourself when I’m gone.”

“You wouldn’t know the difference. Out of sight, out of mind. You could just pretend.”

“I don’t want to pretend. I want a promise.”

“What makes you think I’d keep it?”

“Jim told me that you never break your promises. Please, James. I don’t want to lose you. Even if I don’t have you. I think you’re wrong. You don’t bring your family down. And knowing that you understand… it helps. I don’t want to give that up.”

James’ head bowed and John leaned closer, petting back his hair carefully, “James? I’m always here for you. I’m so sorry for having to leave.”

“I shouldn’t have pretended that you could even stay. It’s my fault.”

“James…” John leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to James’ forehead, “Please… People love you too, you’re not alone.”

James didn’t speak for a long time, and when he finally did, he turned his sorrowful eyes to John, head nodding slowly, “I promise. For you.”

John tried not to question himself for encouraging the survival of a killer. He couldn’t help himself, he was weak. He grabbed James’ shirt and pulled him up for a kiss, eyes falling tightly closed.

It was slow and building at first, then frenzied and with abandon, James’ lips and teeth trying to dominate John’s mouth, to capture the feeling that he really wasn’t alone, and John held on tight and let James lead, just like with the music.

John was dragged out of the music room in a daze. It was all James’ passion and energy controlling their movements and John was swept away like a branch in rushing water, powerless but crying tears of joy and fear, unsure of if he should focus on how nice it was to finally hold James or on the inevitable heartbreak that leaving would cause.

They fell onto James’ bed in a tangle and John barely registered the exact sequence of events, just knowing that one moment James was kissing him like a tidal wave, then his shirt was being torn away, then John was naked and James was kissing him again and his chest burned with love. The hands that had not ten minutes before weaved the most astounding melody John had ever heard were now sliding over every inch of his body and John was dizzy with lust, arching into every feathery caress. James ground against John, his own trousers undone and pushed only partially out of the way, and John wrapped his legs around James, crying into his hand, his body singing as his muscles tensed and he spilled and James’ mouth was on his own again and John felt like he was drowning.

 

John awoke in the night. The house was silent. A warm body was pressed against his side as it had been the night they’d gotten high together and John blinked down at James’ sleeping face, peaceful and content.

He’d promised. At least that was something.

John dressed and left the bedroom. He encountered no one on his walk through the silent house, down the stairs and out into the chilly backyard. John shivered a moment, then stepped back in to find a jacket. Who knew how long it would take for him to find civilization?

James’ cashmere coat with the leather collar was hung by the front door. On an impulse, John took it and put it on, not stopping to think why as he rushed outside and across the field.

In the end, John settled on Ferrero. Even with the offer of extra speed, John was still too wary of the other horses, so he did his best to put Ferrero’s saddle on and climb up on his own. He’d figure out how to send him back once he was free. John coaxed him into a canter and they made the long way around the path that circled the property. When they found the gravel road leading to the house, John urged Ferrero to follow it in the opposite direction.

There was no wall. John kept expecting to run into a gate, but there was none, and when they reached the main road, John realized that he must have been dreaming when he’d first arrived. He set off in the direction of the nearest village, pointed out on a nearby sign, and before sunrise, he was walking into the main square.

A multitude of black vehicles were parked outside the inn and for a moment John felt sick, convinced that they belonged to the Moriarty’s team of snipers and guards, but upon his arrival several men ran out to speak to him and they identified themselves as Mycroft’s men. John realized what James had meant about him returning. He’d been planning on sending him back anyway.

 

The next few hours passed in a blur. John was brought inside, wrapped in blankets, fed, then packed into one of the cars and sped towards London, without a blindfold. On the way, he was questioned by one of the men trying to fill out a report, but John’s answers were so vague, especially regarding the location of the house he’d been trapped at, that he eventually gave up.

He’d wanted desperately to tell them to return Ferrero, but he was scared to tell them where to return him to in case they decided to attack, and John fretted all the way to London, wondering what would happen to the poor horse. They’d keep him well cared for. Maybe later he could make Mycroft promise not to hurt them, then tell him where Ferrero belonged.

In London he was debriefed, offered clean clothes, then escorted into Mycroft’s office. John changed, but then he put the coat back on. He still wasn’t sure why. He just felt numb.

To Mycroft’s credit, he really did seem to be trying to be sympathetic and he was successful to an extent. Rather than his cold look or the grimace he got when he was faking it, his features softened and he leaned forward in his chair as he listened to John recount his story in a detached voice, skipping the parts about attraction and focusing on the facts.

Mycroft made it very clear how important it was that John tell him the location of the house and its weak points. John could tell that while it in part came from a good place, a place of wanting to protect John and probably more likely Sherlock, the other part was from a sense of duty to his country. The part that was far too loyal to the crown, the part that might make Mycroft lie about only wanting to return Ferrero when in reality he was calling in a missile strike. John just couldn’t do it.

He feigned amnesia from the shock and fear that he might be caught and the new expression was the fake sympathetic grimace. Mycroft knew he was lying. He was trying to figure out why. It was possible he already knew what John had done that evening, and the thought chilled John to the core.

Was he a traitor in Mycroft’s eyes? Would Mycroft have him arrested? Would he search for the house anyway? Or worse, would he tell Sherlock?

To his credit, Mycroft didn’t do anything of the sort. He ushered John into a car and rode with him back to Baker Street. It felt like ages had passed since he’d been here and John watched out the window, dazed by all the activity. This is what he’d been missing, John tried to convince himself. This is where he’d be most happy.

 

At Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson fawned over John until he politely but firmly explained that he was exhausted and needed to go to his room. John searched for Sherlock, only to find that he must have gone out. Wonderful. Now he was left alone with his thoughts.

John stumbled upstairs to his room. He changed again, this time into his favorite clothes, then pulled James’ coat back on and got into bed, laying still with his thoughts until he tired himself out and fell asleep, numb and empty.

It had to get easier.


	15. Chapter 15

John spent the next few days nearly always alone, too drained to bother with strangers. His life felt hollow and meaningless and he prayed that it would pass, because how sad would it be if being kidnapped was the highlight of his life?

Sherlock made a few attempts to be available to John, sometimes bringing him meals and tea or trying to bring up what had happened and if he could help, but John just insisted that he was fine and eventually Sherlock would retreat back downstairs.

Between the irrational bouts of crying over the inexplicable ache in his chest, John was numb, daydreaming about the horses and the woods and the pool and his captors. Maybe he really did have Stockholm syndrome. Maybe he needed therapy. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave the house for it.

 

By the second week, John forced himself to get out of bed and to go get a new phone. It was new and expensive and it had less than ten contacts in it. He made a point of texting a few of them to let him know that this was his new number and that he was sorry, then promptly spent the rest of the day ignoring it as it buzzed on his nightstand. Greg, Harry, his parents. They wanted to know where he’d been and if he was okay. John didn’t know what to say.

 

John was looking through the archive of his blog and he caught sight of the video Moriarty had uploaded. He should be angry or sad, but he just felt guilty that he had left without saying goodbye. The last time Jim saw him and he’d let the door fall without saying a word. What kind of terrible friend was he?

 

“I’m so glad you’re safe, I heard you drop your phone, I can’t believe I wrote it off as an accident. Are you hurt? Have you been to the doctor?” Harry continued to talk and John zoned out. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about what had happened yet again. It was best to forget about it and move on.

 

John asked Sherlock to perform the Devil’s Trill for him. Sherlock played, flattered about having a captive audience, but before the first movement even ended, John stood and left the room. It wasn’t right.

 

“John?”

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“You weren’t responding to what I was saying.”

“Do you think that I actually have something meaningful to tell you that you can’t work out yourself? Or are you just showing off? You managed just fine with the skull while I was gone, after all.”

“…”

 

John got a call from a private number and his heart leapt, but it turned out to be a telemarketer and he felt disgusted with himself.

 

Mycroft occasionally emailed John for more information about the things he’d seen while there, curious about a second secret empire or computer codes he’d seen written around. John insisted that he had no idea and pretty soon he was ignoring the emails altogether.

 

John went to therapy. He was told everything he was told before. Socialize, get out into the world, keep up with your blog. He nodded and decided to see what came to him.

_I’m sorry to everyone that was confused as to where I went for the past month. ~~I’ve been dealing with…~~ I know you’re all probably expecting more about Sherlock’s great adventures, but I don’t have much to report. ~~I was…~~ I’ve been away. But Sherlock’s blog has plenty about what he’s been up to and I’ll try to get back into writing here. Sorry for the delay._

It wasn’t like they read his blog for his life’s story anyway. It had stopped being his diary a long time ago. It just took something like this for him to realize how pointless he must seem. He was just the narrator, but the real hero was Sherlock. He was an extra in his own life.

He didn’t bother reading the comments. They’d probably all be asking the same thing anyway, _when are you going to get back to writing_?

 

Maybe it was about time that he got back to all he was good at.

“Sherlock?”

“Hmm?” Sherlock didn’t even look up from his book to see John at the base of the stairs to his room, disheveled and anxious.

“When you get another case, I want to come with you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sherlock’s eyes flicked over briefly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Mycroft said that you needed rest and as much as I hate to agree with him, I think it’s for the best if you get settled after your… ordeal.”

“Cases helped me when I got back home before, they can help me again.” John said firmly.

Sherlock looked concerned, but after a few moments he became distracted by the coat John was wearing and he squinted thoughtfully, “You… Oh…”

“Yes?”

Sherlock pursed his lips and glanced at John’s face, then he shook his head and looked away, “It’s not important.”

“Sherlock, stop it. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just your coat. It’s familiar.”

John swayed on his feet, expecting Sherlock to start accusing him of something, “Oh really?”

Sherlock’s eyes didn’t leave the page but it was clear he wasn’t really reading, “It’s Moriarty’s.”

“I know. I stole it.”

“It’s the one he wore on the rooftop.”

John’s heart dropped and he looked down at it, “Really?”

“Yes. You didn’t know?”

“He didn’t really talk to me about that sort of thing.”

“Well. I can see how that would put a damper on things, yes.”

“I’m… cold. That’s why I’ve been wearing it.” John said weakly.

Sherlock’s eyes closed, “Oh. Of course. If there’s a case, I’ll come find you.”

“Sherlock? Do you have a problem with me wearing the coat?” John couldn’t tell if he was more defensive or worried about ruining their friendship.

“No. I know why you’re keeping it around.”

John’s heart pounded harder, “Because I’m cold. That’s all.”

Sherlock set his book aside and stood, looking John over as he moved to pull his coat on, “If that’s what you want to believe.”

“It’s the truth.”

Sherlock’s scarf was tied, his gloves were slipped on. He crossed the room to John, patting his shoulder gently, then headed for the stairs down, “It means to you what Irene’s phone does to me. I’m going to dig around for a case.”

John hated himself for being so transparent and he went back up to his room to hide.


	16. Chapter 16

**Publicity Stunt or Kidnapping?**

John read the headline without actually reading it, more focused on his tea, until he caught sight of a familiar name.

_Soft-spoken Irish heartthrob Richard Brook._

Well that was a bit of a stretch, but okay. John set his cup down and leaned in to read, frown deepening the further he got. Apparently Richard hadn’t returned to California for some important interviews and now his manager was trying to get ahold of anyone who knew anything about his whereabouts. The last time he’d been seen by someone who wasn’t in hiding was back in Los Angeles, so people were actually getting quite concerned.

John felt stupid as he pulled out his new phone. There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for it and they'd be annoyed at him for even bothering them, but something didn’t sit right with him.

He called his old number, but no one answered. Again and again, he called but nothing happened. Jim would at least pick up to tell him to fuck off at a certain point. Now he was really feeling sick. This was wrong, John knew it in his gut, he needed to do something.

John called the first person he could think of.

“Greg? I need a favor.”

 

The trip normally would have taken a few hours, but in a squad car with the sirens going, they made it there in less than an hour. John pointed out the gravel road and they skidded down it, fast approaching the house. John’s heart pounded, blood roared in his ears, he felt like he was going to pass out as soon as it came into view.

The front yard wasn’t as neatly maintained as it had been.

John raced inside, the door was ajar but he didn’t have time to notice, he needed to find Richard and Jim and James and Sebastian. The downstairs was empty, the upstairs was empty. The beds were disheveled, as if they’d left in a hurry.

The music room was dark and lifeless.

John found his heavily modified cell phone in Jim’s room, nearly dead from all the days uncharged, but now with extra apps and strange things stuck to its sides. He had no idea what to make of it, so he just stuck it in his pocket. It hardly mattered.

He ran back downstairs, trying to find a sign of where they’d run off to. Maybe they’d just changed safehouses. God, please let them have just changed safehouses.

The horses.

John’s blood went cold, deep down, past the denial, he knew it wasn’t planned. No clothes had been taken from the closets, there were still shoes by the door. No. It wasn’t planned.

The pool had accumulated a month’s worth of fall leaves.

He sprinted across the field, chest collapsing, ignoring how his muscles twinged at being overextended. It didn’t matter. He needed to see that they weren’t there, they had to have taken them with them. Or at least opened the stables to let them try to fend for themselves…

 

In the end, John didn’t have the courage to actually look inside. The smell was strong enough to tell him what had happened, so he stumbled away and sobbed and was sick.

When John was done, he stumbled back to the house. He wanted to die. What had he done? Jesus Christ, what had he done?

 

Greg was inside, studying the bullet holes imbedded in the wallpaper, but when he caught sight of John he ran to his side to steady him, “What’s wrong, what’s out there? John? I need to call this in if there’s really been a kidnapping…”

“They can’t do anything about it.” John mumbled, forehead clammy with cold sweat. Mycroft’s men had already been notified, had James suspected they’d search the countryside? Had he let this happen? Or was it possible that John leaving without their knowledge made it impossible for them to pack up and start putting some distance between them and the house?

At least there wasn’t any blood in the house.

“Besides, it was Moriarty. Moriarty was here. They’ve captured him…” John continued in a cracked whisper, stumbling to drink some water, “The police can’t save him.”

“John, why do you care so much? I thought you were trying to forget about all that?” Greg sounded so concerned.

“Because… Because he was nice to me.” John whispered, “Nobody hurt me, they were all really nice… And I ruined their lives…”

Greg touched John’s shoulder gently, clearly worried, “Maybe we can reason with Sherlock’s brother, yeah? And if it doesn’t work out, it’s not your fault, it was bound to happen anyway. He’s a bad guy, things are safer this way.”

John’s eyes closed tightly, “No, it wasn’t bound to happen. They were more careful than that.”

“Moriarty wasn’t careful enough to avoid shopping near your flat, come on, John. He was sloppy. Were there others though? Why do you keep saying they?”

John shook his head, “They, he, had a team always following him, to take out people that would recognize him.”

“Then why didn’t they shoot you?”

John pulled away, shaking too much to focus, “I’d like to be taken back home now. I can’t be here, it’s not right without them.”

“John? You don’t look well, maybe I should take you to the hospital…”

“I’m fine!” John shouted, “Take me home! I don’t want to look at this place anymore!”

Greg recoiled, lifting his hands to show that he wasn’t a threat, and John realized just how unwell he must seem.

“Please?” He tried again, but this time his voice was on the verge of tears, “Greg, please take me home. I’ve killed them all, they’re probably already dead, and it’s all my fault…”

Greg nodded slowly. He wanted to help John, but he didn’t want to make him any more upset, so he simply led the way to the car and John followed, swaying his way to the passenger seat.

 

The drive back was much slower and John’s brain pounded in his head as he stared out the window. Maybe he should have called someone about the horses… But he had no idea who. Was it a vet that would…? Animal control…? A cleaning service?

His phone began to buzz and John ignored it, trying to think. It rang itself out. He’d probably have to go back and handle it himself. Fuck. Fucking hell. How was he supposed to have known that no one was around to take care of them? And that smell…

John’s phone began ringing again and he picked it up, shouting into the receiver, “What do you want?”

“John.” It was Sherlock, “Where are you?”

“I went to go check on Moriarty but your brother kidnapped him!”

“I think you need to turn on the news…”

“I’m in a car right now, can’t very well do that, thanks. Why, what’s happened?”

“Well… A statement has been issued that Moriarty is no longer a threat to London…”

John’s head pounded, “Is he dead? Sherlock? Tell me, have they killed him or is he just detained?”

“They… haven’t clarified and no one’s been on yet that has any real information, I can’t tell you.”

“Please, get ahold of your brother. Find out. I need to know if he’s dead, if they’re all dead, ask him if they’re all dead.”

“They?”

“The triplets, Sherlock. Please.”

“Of course.”

John heard the click as Sherlock hung up and he slumped into his seat, eyes filling with tears. How had he fucked everything up so much?


	17. Chapter 17

John had Greg take him to Mycroft’s office, not the one he’d been debriefed in or had visited to learn more about the missile plans years before, buy the secret one that Sherlock texted him the directions to.

Greg seemed pretty worried about John and willing to do just about whatever he wanted to keep from upsetting him further. John was trying his best to at least act like he was calm and rational, at least for Greg’s sake. It wasn’t his fault that Mycroft was a complete twat.

When they arrived, John stormed right into Mycroft’s office, ignoring the guards and secretary that tried to stop him and were subsequently shooed away by Mycroft. Everything was cold concrete and mirrors and metal chairs. It was much more fitting.

“Are they dead?”

Mycroft’s expression was polite, “Ah, Dr. Watson, how nice it is to see you again…”

“ _Are they dead, Mycroft_?”

“That isn’t really your concern, Dr. Watson. It’s a matter of national security, but I can assure you with absolute confidence that the appropriate people are attending to this issue and it will be resolved soon enough. Please, go home, get some rest. You look quite unwell.”

“Of course I look bloody unwell, this is on me, I need to know if I’ve killed them.” John strode over to Mycroft’s desk, leaning in close, “Are they dead?”

“Not yet, but you have nothing to fear from them.” Mycroft said calmly, “They’re under heavy security, they won’t ever find you. Go home.”

“They won’t find me?” John huffed, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“For you giving them up.” Mycroft’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”

“I never gave them up!”

“Didn’t you? The house wasn’t far off, you left while they were sleeping, before they had a chance to defend themselves.”

“I… I didn’t know this would happen!”

Mycroft’s face softened in recognition and he gave John a pitying look, “You actually… care for them. And here I thought you were being smart for once, but you don’t want to know if you’ve doomed them for the credit, but for the guilt…”

“Shut up.”

“You trusted Sherlock so easily but I never saw _this_ coming…”

“Shut up! They’re not dead yet, but do they have time? Is there anything I can do to help them? I can vouch for them, I can say that they’ve been reformed! The “miss me” footage was just to help Sherlock, but they’ve been in hiding for the past few years, they haven’t been working! So they’re good now!”

Mycroft sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Dr. Watson, a few years of good behavior and the word of a doctor isn’t enough to excuse a lifetime of misdeeds. Even if it was in my power, what makes you think that I personally would let them go? They went after Sherlock, they ran a criminal empire that spanned the globe, they even kidnapped you. Multiple times, if I may add. And you want to save them just because you spent a few weeks with them?”

John’s face scrunched up as he tried to hold back tears, “Is there nothing I can do? Don’t they at least deserve a fair trial before they’re killed?”

“A fair trial ends with them dead, John. An unfair trial involves them threatening the jury with the murder of their families.”

“Please, Mycroft. Pardon them, something. They saved Sherlock from being sent off on a suicide mission!”

“I don’t just have pardons lying around, I’m not magic. Besides, you think that them trying to kill Sherlock is excusable just because they saved him later? Quite possibly unintentionally?”

“They weren’t trying to kill Sherlock!” John shouted. When Mycroft looked startled, he hesitated, then clenched his fists, deciding to keep going, “If they wanted him dead, he’d be dead! I mean, look at how much time he spends staring thoughtfully out the bloody window. Hell, I’m not even a sniper and I could have gotten a headshot on him from across the street! There were plenty of opportunities to kill him, Sherlock’s so reckless it could have even looked like an accident. I mean, if James wanted to kill Sherlock, he’d have just shot him on the rooftop! In fact, James thought the gun was loaded, so he really would have tried it if that’s what he’d wanted! And if Sherlock hadn’t wanted to play their twisted fucking game, he’d have backed off like James told him to do at the very beginning! Or, fuck, he could have just poisoned him when they had tea together. James just wanted someone to understand him, he thought Sherlock would be the one, but… it didn’t work out that way.”

“So you think it’s you.” Mycroft said quietly, “You think you’re the one to understand James Moriarty.”

“A hell of a lot better than you!” John shouted, then winced, “Sorry, I’m a tad worked up. But yes. He thinks it too, I promise. He cares about me, he’ll listen to me. If I tell him to leave everybody alone, he will. And if he doesn't… I’ll gladly betray him.”

“What about the other two? Jim and Iacomus?”

“Ia… comus?” John said faintly.

Mycroft frowned in confusion, leaning forward to check his files, “Yes, James, Jim and Iacomus Moriarty?”

“Oh.” John had never felt more confused in his life but he nodded, “He went by a nickname, I guess I just… didn’t realize his real name would be so weird.”

Mycroft raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Oh, right. Yeah, yeah, they’ll totally listen, they’re no problems. Jim and, er, Iacomus are more casual about it, James is the one to look out for. But he really likes me. Please, Mycroft. I promise, I can help you.

For a few moments, Mycroft watched John and considered the offer, and John felt like the world hung still. He didn’t know what he’d do if Mycroft said no, maybe come back with his gun or something…

“You can speak to them. We’ll see if we can arrange something from there.”

John forced himself to take a few deep breaths before he passed out, nodding as fast as he could manage before Mycroft could change his mind, “Yes, oh God yes, thank you.”

“You really care for them…” Mycroft seemed surprised.

John broke into a smile, “I do. You don’t know, but when I was there, they treated me so well. It wasn’t just humane, they… think I’m important. Even James, even if he’s so tormented by his mind, he thinks I’m worth his time. He shared things with me. I just hope things haven’t been messed up too much…”

Mycroft pulled his hand away awkwardly, making a face at the idea of Moriarty sharing anything with anybody. John wasn’t sure if it was the possibility of it being a euphemism or the sheer fact that it involved sentiment of any kind that made it repulsive to the man, but he nodded, “Sorry. I believe he can change though. I can fix this.”

“Let’s hope you can, Dr. Watson. Let me make a call first, then we can head down.”

John nodded and watched as Mycroft dialed. It took a few tries and Mycroft seemed to be frustrated by the lack of connection. Even the landline seemed to be having trouble, so Mycroft left John alone to find some other phone, returning within a few minutes.

“Let’s go.”


	18. Chapter 18

The corridors and cells deep beneath the building were just as frigid and imposing as Mycroft’s office far above, all done in dark, smooth concrete, with the occasional mirror or checkerboard pattern of square lights overhead to show the way. John’s fists clenched as he followed Mycroft, regretting his decision to come here unarmed.

They passed by countless cells and John tried to keep his eyes fixed ahead, wondering how many people were down here, being tortured… Soon enough they came to a heavy door at the end of a hall with several guards waiting out front and John sighed, staring at it. Of course they’d have extra security.

Through the door there was an observation room with a bulletproof one way mirror that overlooked the actual cell that James was being kept in, as well as more guards and another official. John rushed to the glass, staring down at the stark room below.

The floor and walls were wet and in the corner there was a small drain for washing out whatever it was that accumulated in the cell. In the center of the room, there was a chair, welded to the floor, and handcuffed to it was James Moriarty, head down, wearing a soaked t-shirt and sweatpants. Mycroft had learned his lesson not to give James any room to explore since the last time he’d been held in this place and had scratched up the walls, it had cost quite a bit to repair since leaving it as it was had been too upsetting for the prisoners.

John realized that the call Mycroft had made before they’d headed down must have been to have them hose the room off. He didn’t really want to imagine what it had looked like before.

Mycroft came up beside John, sliding him the microphone to address James, but John shook his head, “No, I have to go in.”

“Dr. Watson…”

“Please? He won’t listen to me like this, I have to look him in the eyes.” John insisted.

Mycroft relented and nodded at the guards to allow John in. They patted him down for weapons, removed his old and new phones, then unlocked the door and waved him through.

John’s footsteps were deafening in the complete silence once the door closed behind him. He couldn’t imagine spending too long in a soundproof room like this, it would surely drive him insane. He cleared his throat and the sound echoed, making him wince.

James didn’t look up, eyes closed, head bowed. John glanced at the mirror, then slowly walked over to James, reluctantly kneeling in front of him, “James? It’s me, John. Will you look at me?”

James seemed to slowly return to his body, eyes dull once they first opened, but gradually becoming expressive and pained once he recognized John, his body starting to cramp and shiver from the cold. Did he check out for the torture then, just to get through it? John couldn’t even imagine how terrible he must be feeling with everything coming back all at once, it didn’t matter, he’d save him from this place.

“James? Can you speak?”

“Go home.” James’ voice was soft and a little detached. John could practically feel Mycroft taking notes beyond the glass on how to get him talking.

“No, I’ve come to save you. You have to believe me, I didn’t know that this would happen, I had no idea, oh God… How long has it been?”

James shrugged, blinking tiredly, “Dunno, don’t have my phone or watch on me.”

“Was it really right after I left?” John whispered.

That had been weeks ago. God…

“Dunno when you left. I was asleep, I woke up to gunfire…” James shrugged again, “Go home, John. I don’t want you here.”

“I ruined everything, I’m so so sorry.” John touched James’ knee, but he had to pull away when it made James hiss in pain.

“Just go home. You can’t do anything.”

“Mycroft said that if he believes that you care about me and that you’ll change for me, he’ll let you go.” John whispered, “Come on, you just have to tell the truth, it’s so easy. You can go home, everything will be okay.”

“I don’t care about you.” James shrugged, stretching in his seat, “You’re just a toy to me. It was a game. But I’m bored now, so get lost.”

“Why are you lying?” John snapped, “Don’t you want to get out of here? Are you trying to impress somebody by acting tough? Is it really worth dying, just so you don’t have to look weak?”

James’ laugh was dry and nearly a cough, but he smiled at John sweetly, head tilting, “This isn’t about looking tough, John. First of all, I don’t give a fuck about dying. Second, I don’t give a fuck about you. So why not run back to Sherlock?”

“What about your brothers? Do you really want to doom them?”

“Nothing matters, John. Everyone dies anyway. Might as well be here.”

“That’s not true.” John’s fists tightened, “You’re messing with me, you’re just trying to be funny or tell me something…”

James rolled his eyes, “No fucking shit, John.”

John fell silent, mind racing to figure out what it could be. There had to be an explanation besides James trying to upset him, he couldn’t say it because they were being watched. Did he want John to go home because he already had an escape plan? Go home to Sherlock, maybe Sherlock could help? Or was there something wrong with the deal he’d offered Mycroft? Proof that James Moriarty wasn’t dangerous, by proving that he loved somebody, but if he had proof that James loved somebody, didn’t that give him the perfect way to get into James’ mind? John would become a bargaining chip, possibly another prisoner in one of these cells, just so they could crack into James’ head. But why? What did he know that he wasn’t willing to give up?

What did he know that he wasn’t capable of giving up?

Information about the empire? It was long gone.

Details about a dangerous plan? There was no one to put it into action.

A computer code to open any door in the world? It didn’t exist.

The code didn’t exist. So it couldn’t be given up. If John proved his value, he’d be tortured so that James would talk, but what else could he say that hadn’t already been said? There was no code to give them. Then they’d all die, but at least this way John might live.

“Oh.” John whispered.

James nodded slowly, “Yes.”

“James, I’m sorry. This is all my fault, I ran away because I was scared that I was being tricked by you, but I led them right to you before you had a chance to escape, I’m so sorry.” He didn’t have the heart to tell James about the horses. It was too much right now.

James didn’t speak. Anything he wanted to say was too sentimental and it would give them away. His last words to John and they had to be so hurtful and dismissive, it was terrible.

“And your brothers, are they alive?”

James shrugged.

“Sebastian?”

James shrugged again.

John closed his eyes, trying to think, “Maybe Sherlock could come and prove your innocence. He knows about the code…”

“It’s no use, this won’t stop until they get it. Just go home.”

John felt tears threatening to spill over and he wanted to do something. If only he was smarter, he could figure this out, if he was like Sherlock he could save the day, he’d just go into his mind palace and fix everything and everyone would be safe. But he was just a soldier. What could he hope to do?

James had deserved better than him.

“I went by your house.” John said softly, looking down, “It was awful to see it like that, with bullets in the walls and dust everywhere. The pool was full of leaves… It was so beautiful the last day. I loved how you played for me. The song was so amazing, and you looked amazing too playing it. I’ve never seen anything better.”

James’ eyes closed and a very faint smile turned up the corners of his lips.

“Do you think they’d let me say goodbye to your brothers as well?”

“Perhaps if you ask nicely.”

“Do you know… how they’re going to do it?”

“Lethal injection I believe. Probably here.”

“Oh. I hate to leave…”

“I hear it’s best to have a quick break.” James murmured, “Not that I’d know. I’m a psychopath.”

“I love you.”

James nodded, “Yes.”

John hoped it wasn’t going to condemn them, but he had to try. He cupped James’ face and leaned in, kissing him softly on the lips. James was unresponsive for the benefit of those watching, but John knew deep down that he’d be kissing back if he could.

After a few moments, John leaned back, face streaked with tears, “I’m going to miss you. I don’t know if there’s a point without you…”

“A lot of people are counting on you to save the day. They’d be pretty disappointed and angry if you threw that all away for a villain.”

John’s laugh was weak and he looked down, “Probably. And I care so much about what other people think…”

“Don’t feel bad, it’s normal, I hear.”

“You don’t care what people think.”

“I’m not normal.”

“Neither am I…” John gave James one final kiss on the forehead, “Be strong.”

As the door closed, John caught James’ last words, “I promise.”


	19. Chapter 19

John was in a trance as his shitty phone and brand new phone were returned to him, ignoring Mycroft’s disappointed stare and following out of the observation room. It felt like a part of his soul had died. As they walked, John took some time to remember what was going on, “Wait, I need to say goodbye to Jim and Richard and Sebastian too!”

Mycroft glanced back down the hall at the guards and the other official that were waiting outside of James’ cell and watching them, trying to respond appropriately for their presence, it would reflect badly if he listened to a liar, “You were unsuccessful in convincing Moriarty to assist us, you’re already on thin ice as it is, Dr. Watson. You get to see only one of them.”

John’s heart dropped, “That’s not fair, it’s not my fault. Please, Mycroft, I need to say goodbye, they’re going to die and this is my only chance!”

Mycroft gave John an apologetic look, “Please, Dr. Watson. I understand that this is difficult, but you’re an intruder here, you’re lucky you aren’t being thrown out immediately. You have nowhere near the security clearance to even see James, but an exception was made since under the circumstances you might be of some help. This isn’t a normal prison.”

John wanted to be angry with Mycroft, but he knew that it wasn’t really his fault. Moriarty was dangerous and Mycroft was just doing his job to protect people.

“Fine, I… I’d like to see Jim.” It hurt, but he was closer to Jim. And Richard seemed stronger, Jim was just a kid. He’d be scared.

Mycroft nodded and began to lead the way. The next cell had no guards and it was Mycroft that unlocked the heavy door and ushered John inside, not giving him a pat down or anything. There was no observation window here and Mycroft moved away from the door to give them privacy.

Jim didn’t seem as though he was being tortured as roughly as James. His cell’s lights were dimmed to simulate the night and he was curled up on his cot, dozing off lightly. When he heard the door, he jolted and sat up, beaming at the sight of John, “You’re here! Is everything okay?”

“I… er. No. Not really. I’m sorry Jim, I’ve screwed up things even worse.” John moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, “I’ve ruined everything because I’m an idiot.”

“Johnny? Hey, don’t be sad.” Jim moved closer, taking John’s hand, “John? Please. I’m sure it’s okay, as long as you’re safe, right? You can go home, like you were saying you wanted to. Right? You can have fun adventures with Sherlock, you’re going to be really happy… It’s what you wanted.”

“I never even got to introduce you to him.” John whispered.

“It was a silly idea anyway, like he’d want to train me.” Jim laughed weakly, “Come on, it’s alright.”

“He’d have really liked you, I know it. And I went by the house to find you and you know what I found?” John’s voice cracked, not sure why he was going to break the news to Jim at this time of all, it wasn’t fair, not when he loved Dirk so much…

Jim’s eyes widened, “Your phone.”

“Er, what?”

“You went by the house and you found your phone. Right?”

“Oh. Well I did, I mean… Sure… But that’s not-”

“John.” Jim grabbed his shoulders, “No cameras are working around you right now. There’s a jammer in the phone, no one can hear us. Holy shit, I didn’t even think you’d gone back, but you did, this is great.”

John blinked, not understanding, and he pulled the phone out, eyes widening when he saw how low the battery was, “It’s about to die…”

“Give it to me!” Jim hissed, grabbing it away and starting to tap at the screen rapidly, opening up apps, typing in lines of code, setting everything up. John watched anxiously, praying that the battery would last. For several tense minutes, Jim worked, and suddenly the screen went black.

John’s stomach lurched, “Did it not work?”

Jim stared up at the camera in the corner of the room, slowly passing John his phone back, “We have to wait and see.”

The camera whirred and realigned itself to be fixed on them. The hair on the back of John’s neck stood on end. Any moment, someone would tell Mycroft and he’d be escorted off the premises, or possibly even killed…

Down the hall, John could hear a clicking sound, one after another, rapid fire, growing louder. Jim’s cell door clicked open and the noise shot off the other direction, releasing all the prisoners. Mycroft swung the door open, looking absolutely stunned, “What did you do?”

“I… er…”

The alarm began to blare. The lights began flashing red. The sprinkler system started up and John blinked in shock up at the ceiling. The sound of shouting grew louder and Mycroft took one look down the hall, suddenly on edge, “We need to leave immediately, John. People are coming.”

“Prisoners?”

“Yes. John, please. Hurry. We need to go.”

“I can’t, I have to find James and Richard and Sebastian.”

Mycroft gave John a helpless look, then shouted, “5048, 5037, 5022.” and bolted for safety. John grabbed Jim’s hand and they took off in the opposite direction, ignored by the prisoners thanks to Jim’s own t-shirt and sweatpants. John ran towards 5022 since it was the closest to them and they ran into Sebastian in the hall, already carrying a gun that he’d found on an unconscious guard and running for safety.

“John! You’re here! Where’s James and Richard?”

John beamed, waving at Sebastian to follow them. Richard was easy enough to locate, still in his cell and trying to keep some guards from breaking down the door and getting to him. Sebastian mowed them down and John dragged Richard out through the small crack in the door that they could get open because of the bodies. He gave John a brief hug, hair wild and sticking up everywhere.

“Did you do this?”

“It was Jim mostly.” John distributed the unused guns to Jim and Richard, the picked up one himself and began to run again, leading the way to James’ cell, praying that there would be no guards, “I just happened to bring my old phone along.”

“Oh thank God, I was worried you’d suddenly become competent with technology and that was terrifying.”

John would have given Richard a nasty look but he was too busy running. His heart was racing, he felt out of breath and terrified, he was shaking. The water from the sprinklers was making it hard to see and the alarm was pounding in his skull. They had to save James. They had to.

There were no guards. The first door was unlocked and John rushed through, running straight into the second door. It wouldn’t budge. He tried it again and again, not believing it. It wasn’t possible. It had to have been unlocked by Jim’s override, surely this room would be covered.

“It’s on lockdown because of the other rooms.” Jim shouted, running to the computer to try and get through.

“What about the glass?” Sebastian said, taking aim.

“It’s bulletproof, I’d rather not have a bullet ricochet and kill me today, thank you!” Richard caught Sebastian’s arm.

“We have to get through before reinforcements show up!” John pounded on the door, staring through the glass at James, sitting in his chair, blinking through the water at the mirror, trying in vain to see something, “James, it’s me! John! Please hang on, we’re going to get you out!”

It was soundproof, John knew, but he was hoping it would make him feel better. It didn’t.

“Fuck, it’s going to take too long to crack.” Jim was nearly hysterical, “I’m trying my best, it’s so fucking complicated, hang on.”

“Guards down the hall.” Sebastian reported from his post by the door, taking a few shots to ward them off, then switching his gun out for Richard’s, “There’s bound to be more than we can take soon. Even if we can hold them, there’ll be more upstairs. Sitting is just a waste of ammo.”

“Hang on!” Jim shouted, “Hang on, I can do this! Please wait, I’m going to do it.”

Richard panted, touching John’s arm, “John…”

“Wait.” John whispered, touching the glass, “Please… Jim will fix this.”

“John… we might need to consider what’s going to happen if…”

“He can do it, I believe in him.” John insisted.

“More guards!” Sebastian cut in.

“Alright. But if we do get caught… don’t say you did it. It was Jim, okay? You can get off fine, if you just deny, you can go back home.”

“I don’t want to go back home.”

“Sure you do. You can have a normal life, or a more normal life, it’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t want normal. I want you guys. I’m not giving this up.”

Richard looked sad and he took a moment to give John a hug, watching James inside his cell, “I’m sorry this happened.”

“More guards…”

“I’m sorry too.” John smiled sadly.

“We all love you, John. Trust me.” Richard kissed John’s temple.

They stood together for several more tense moments straining for updates.

“It’s going to take too long, if I can even figure it out at all.” Jim said in a broken voice.

“That’s okay, Jim.”

“I fucked it all up…”

“You did your best. That’s all we could have asked for.”

“New gun.” Sebastian ordered and Richard pulled away to pass Sebastian the next one. They were running out of options.

John pressed his face to the glass, wishing James could see him. He looked so confused and worried in there, trying to figure out if someone had escaped, if John was okay…

“They…” Sebastian frowned, “I think they… got called off? They’re leaving… Unless they’re coming for us some other way, fuck, I don’t know, hang on.”

A few more moments ticked by. The blaring alarm shut off. The sprinkers stopped. The overhead speaker in the room crackled to life.

“Dr. Watson?”

It was Mycroft.

John began to cry, staring up at the speaker. They’d lost hadn’t they? Mycroft was in control again, they were all going to die.

“You can speak, the cameras are working again.”

“Y-yes?” John could barely get the word out.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

The speaker went silent. John stood still, trying to comprehend what was happening. The speaker went silent. The door unlocked.


	20. Chapter 20

Sherlock was a simple man. Most wouldn’t think so, but relatively speaking, it was true. He liked his experiments, he liked his cases. He liked being more clever than anyone else in the room, he liked knowing what to expect from the situations he was put into.

Sometimes, he liked eating dinner and reading up on cold cases, enjoying the solitude. It was predictable and easy but somehow not unsatisfying his mind.

What wasn’t predictable was having John arrive home so late with three Moriartys and an ex-military sniper in tow.

Sherlock stared. No, he didn’t like situations that he didn’t understand. There were three of them…

“So you’re the detective I’ve heard so much about.” Sebastian said brightly, helping John get James onto the couch, “You’re not as tall as I expected.”

“That’s what everyone says.” John muttered, though he was pretty distracted, and as soon as James was laid out carefully, he hurried off to get his medical supplies.

To Sherlock’s credit, it didn’t take much longer for him to process exactly what it all meant, “I suppose I owe John an apology for his twin theory…”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much, I knew Moriarty personally about a year before I ever saw two of them in the same room, I just thought he changed his clothes a lot.” Sebastian laughed and winked, “Turns out that’s just Richard.”

“Fuck off.” Richard shoved Sebastian, “This is not the time! Stop flirting and make yourself useful, find weapons or something!”

“I’m not flirting, are you really that much of a satyriasiac that you automatically assume every conversation is sexual?” Sebastian growled, shoving Richard back.

“I know how you flirt, you’re practically drooling over him, keep it in your fucking pants.” Richard sneered.

Sherlock just seemed impressed hearing the word satyriasiac from a man who didn’t particularly strike anyone as the intellectual type.

“Can you two go somewhere else to fight?” John asked, hurrying back out and starting to tend to James as best he could.

“Sebastian started it.” Richard shrugged, going over to sit across from Sherlock.

“I made a fucking joke about him changing his clothes and now he’s accusing me of hitting on the fucking detective.” Sebastian threw his hands into the air, “There’s no winning.”

“Well your physical responses combined with your defensive reaction would suggest…” Sherlock started.

“That’s enough.” Sebastian hissed.

Richard gave Sebastian a nasty, know-it-all smirk. Sebastian shot him a glare and stormed off to look for weapons.

 

“So will he be okay?” Jim asked after a few moments once he was certain some of the tension had gone out of the room.

“Well… I kind of doubt he’ll just die unexpectedly.” John said, “But he’s pretty bruised all over, I imagine a lot is pretty painful for him… Swollen shoulder, I’m guessing it was dislocated then put back in…”

“Ouch.” James mumbled deliriously as John tested his range of motion.

“God, I’m going to stitch up what I can, disinfect and bandage up all the cuts… They hosed him off before I showed up so I’ll skip a wash, he should probably get into bed and get some ice packs for all his swelling, but moving him might be a bad idea, so staying here should have to do.” John said as he injected James with some painkillers.

“So you’re all Moriarty…” Sherlock said conversationally to Richard, “Do you play different parts because you each have different specialties?”

“We all played different parts specifically for meeting you, since we all wanted a chance to see you in action. Even though I personally was robbed of the chance to see your deductive abilities. Thanks for that by the way.” Richard shrugged, “Other than that, we rotate depending on availability and location. I’ll make appearances when I’m not as busy, James makes others, Jim does the ones online. But to say we play different parts because we have specialties is an insult to my brothers’ acting skills. They’re just as good as I am, even if they don’t pursue it professionally…”

“You don’t think that there being three of you makes Moriarty’s intellectual prowess a little… exaggerated? You all may be very bright, but doesn’t coming together to work on the empire make you each less clever than the Moriarty persona? You’re relying on one another to pick up loose threads and you can each focus on your own areas, you become more specialized… I’d be more impressed if it was only one person in total control, that’s all.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed and he leaned in dangerously, “For all intents and purposes, James is the real Moriarty. He runs the entire show. There’s no struggle for him to keep up with the demand, he doesn’t delegate because he’s not bright enough to do it on his own, he is the spider at the center of the web, the struggle is in having the empire keep up with him. I simply make appearances when he’s too busy or there’s a threat that we could be betrayed. I’m _expendable_. They slash my throat, the empire carries on because of _him_. Jim is used for his more technical knowledge, but James could easily find someone else, he just likes using someone who understands the full scope of the empire and has knowledge on how Moriarty speaks. James is Moriarty, Moriarty is in control, Moriarty is brilliant. Don’t ever think that he’s not just as capable without us.”

Sherlock seemed a little stunned, but after a moment, he tilted his head, “The empire is gone though.”

“Well…” Jim coughed.

Richard shot him a look.

Jim looked away.

“I destroyed it.” Sherlock sat up straighter, “It’s gone.”

“Ehhh…” Jim wiggled his hand, “Kind of…”

“What?”

“Well, come on, you think you got everybody? As if a huge part of the population wouldn’t be dead or in prison if you had actually done so? I mean, come on, the global economy would take a massive hit from something like that, so many people gone? Plus there’s no way the prison systems could hold them all. And you didn’t even touch our online presence, are you intimidated by computers?” Jim spilled.

“I once saw him with eight laptops because he apparently doesn’t know how to open new tabs on his computer.” John coughed.

“He uses Internet Explorer to update his blog, that doesn’t surprise me.” Jim snorted.

Sebastian came back down from John’s room, loading John’s handgun and sticking it down the back of the jeans he’d borrowed from John’s closet, “Like John’s got any room to make fun, he can’t even type. He hunt and pecks.”

“Oooh, look at Sebby defending his new crush.” Richard said.

“Do you ever stop trying to generate drama?” Sebastian muttered, pulling his phone out and texting to summon a van to pick them up.

Jim looked like his mother had been personally insulted.

John rolled his eyes, shooing Jim away, “Go get ice packs, it doesn’t matter right now.”

“You don’t know how to type.” Jim repeated.

“It’s been on the 221B live feed plenty, I have no idea how you would have missed it.” Richard said, “He’s always on that computer, slowly picking out a blog entry, you’d think he’d have gotten proficient by now, but no… I doubt there’s hope of him ever improving.”

Jim winced but left to get ice packs.

“There’s a 221B live feed?” Sherlock looked around curiously, “I thought I found all the cameras.”

“You’re hardly ever here, it’s no trouble to keep replacing them. Especially with how often James has visited…” Richard said, “And oh boy, that’s always exciting footage…”

“Fuck off.” James grimaced.

“Especially upstairs…”

James rolled his eyes.

“Upstairs?” John asked, trying to fight a smile.

James shot John a dirty look, “Don’t encourage this.”

“Wow, I’d heard about it, but I really didn’t expect there to be real body parts in the freezer.” Jim said, coming back with the ice packs.

“Not as tasty as one would think…” Sherlock muttered under his breath and nearly everyone in the room turned to stare at him in varying degrees of disgust.

 

Sebastian’s phone chimed and he checked the screen a moment, “Alright, the van’s here. Richard, Jim and James are going. Myself of course. John?”

“What?” John standing up.

“Are you coming with us?” Sebastian asked as Jim helped James get up and walk over to the door, securing his ice packs. Richard rose and walked over to Sebastian, all four of them waiting and watching John expectantly.

“Am I… invited?”

“Of course, you’re family.”

“But I got you arrested. All of you. And nearly killed.”

“We can probably rehash that stuff somewhere safer.” Sebastian suggested, tapping his foot, “As it is, we have no idea if anyone’s going to be searching for us, we kind of have to get a move on…”

John glanced at James, “If no one objects…”

James managed a thin smile at John, “It’s up to you.”

“Do you think I’d be in danger staying here?”

“I can’t say.” Sebastian shrugged, “Possibly.”

“So would Sherlock also be in danger?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, “Fucking hell John, yeah, sure, probably. What do you want us to do about it?”

“Can he come with us?”

“You want us to bring the brother of Mycroft Holmes with us and pray that he doesn’t assume it’s a kidnapping?”

“Yes.” John said decisively, “I told Jim I’d introduce them.”

Sebastian glared but after a moment he shrugged, “Sure, whatever, why not. Let’s bring Sherlock. Why not your fucking neighbors and landlady while we’re at it?”

John smiled and stood, nodding at Sherlock, “Want to give it a try? I think you’ll like them.”

Sherlock stood and straightened out his suit, “Why not? My evening’s already insane, might as well keep going.”

“Let me pack, I’ll be back in three minutes.” John grinned.


	21. Chapter 21

One car ride to a private airfield later and they were all piled into a plane, flying to someplace safe. Everyone seemed content for the most part, James’ painkillers had kicked in and even Sebastian and Richard had stopped squabbling, but John still felt uneasy, trying to think of how best to break the news of the horses to James and Jim. God knew where Ferrero was, Mycroft hadn’t said, but Dirk and Réaltra…

“Jim?”

“Yes?”

“You know how I was trying to tell you about all the things that were my fault? But you cut me off to tell me about the phone?”

“I haven’t forgotten.” Jim laughed.

“Well. I went out to the stables, you know? No one’s been looking after the horses since you left and I. Uh.”

“Don’t worry, John, I have a contingency plan in place.” James smiled at John carefully, “They’re safe.”

“But they’re not, I could smell death in there…”

“Whatever you smelled wasn’t the horses, something else might have gone in there and died, it happens from time to time, squirrels and things like that, but in the event of our capture, we have handlers that take them to a private barn to be kept until we can get free.” James explained, “And if we don’t get free, the payments don’t stop, so they’d be well taken care of.”

John breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that James was right, if he had only checked he might have spared himself this worry, “But Ferrero, he’s…”

“We have people for this exact purpose, John. I’m sure Ferrero’s been stolen back by now, his security is probably a low priority. Who cares about locking up a horse? What’s he going to do if our people get him back? Run the empire? Hell, Mycroft’s people might have even just turned him loose and our people got him from there. It’s nothing to worry about. If you want, I can check my email for confirmation?”

“God yes, I was so scared.” John whispered, voice cracking.

James stuck out his hand and John passed him his new phone. Within minutes, James was handing it back, “Here. Look. There’s even a picture with a newspaper from the day after we were taken and they’ve continued up until today. These people know better than to fuck with us John. Even if we had died, they’d have gotten their comeuppance for failing.”

“Okay.” John rubbed his eyes and looked out the window, “Are you upset with me?”

James watched John closely, eyes watchful, his anger suppressed, “Yes. You left. And I was planning on returning you anyway. I thought with what had happened, you’d have stayed. But I guess you already got what you wanted, your _promise_ that your betrayal wouldn’t cause my suicide, so why bother sticking around?”

“James…”

“We can talk about it when we get there.” James didn’t meet John’s eyes.

 

They landed, leaving the car in a small airplane hangar, then got into the car waiting for them, driving off into the desolate countryside that surrounded the empty runway. Sebastian drove, keeping an eye out for signs that they’d been followed, but they were alone and safe.

They soon reached a small seaside cottage.

Jim and Richard moved to help James inside, but he brushed them off, taking John’s arm and dragging him out towards the beach. The sky was gloomy and a salty breeze blew in from the sea but James wasn’t deterred, moving to sit on a large driftwood tree, stripped of its bark, bleached white by the sun, and entrenched in the sand.

John watched James. The way his bruised face turned towards the water, eyes soft and thoughtful, hair blown back from his forehead by the ocean air. Even bloodied and broken, he still managed to retain his ethereal beauty.

“You went back. Even after everything I’d shown you, I don’t understand.” James sounded so tired, “I thought… Well. It was stupid, wasn’t it? If you hadn’t found out that we went missing, you wouldn’t have come back.”

“I was trying to move on. I thought that I’d been brainwashed. You’re Moriarty. The Napoleon of crime-” Here James made a disgusted face at the inadequate label but John continued, “This is what you do. You don’t get involved with small players, I’m only significant in how I can help you get to Sherlock.”

“You think the things I showed you were part of a game?” James said quietly, finally glancing at John with a dark expression.

“You’re a master manipulator… I was scared.”

“Everyone you know is a master manipulator.”

“Yes, but they have morals, or they pretend to… I guess I thought that you had no boundaries. That you don’t respect me.”

James looked away again, expression dull, and John shifted on his feet, trying to think of something to say.

“I guess I just don’t trust you.”

“That’s fair. I haven’t done much to prove that you can trust me.” James shrugged.

They fell silent and the sound of the waves crashing was all John could hear. Was there no point in trying? What if he always kept this fear in his head that it was just some elaborate game? Even with the beautiful song, the way James had looked at him, but he’d still convinced himself to run away… Maybe it was hopeless.

“I love you.” John tried.

“Yes. I think you do.” James agreed.

“Does that not mean anything?”

“It doesn’t mean anything if you’ll just leave again. I may love you back, but that won’t change that you’re gone. You betrayed me after I showed you something very important. I thought we had a connection in that moment. I thought you understood better than to leave. And you did anyway. And part of me was sure that you left on purpose and told them were we were.” James shook his head and looked down, “I’m still not entirely certain, but I don’t think you did. I hope that wasn’t you that told them where we were.”

“I didn’t, I swear. And the fact that I got you out should prove that.”

James shrugged again and winced at how it aggravated his shoulder, “You could have regretted it. I’ve got no proof John. Besides, you left. No matter if you gave up our location or not, you left me. Had I woken up normally, instead of to the sound of gunfire… Hm. It doesn’t matter.”

“Would you have killed yourself?” John asked quietly.

“Maybe. I’m not trying to guilt-trip you into putting up with me though, that isn’t what this is about. I just wish things were different.”

“Well we couldn’t have really talked it out, could we? If you had been fucking with my head, you might have locked me up and then I would have blown my chance at freedom over a fake relationship, is that what you expected me to do?” John was nearly shouting.

James kept calm, face blank, “No. I just wish the situation was different.”

“What, you wish we had met somewhere outside of you kidnapping me? At a coffee shop maybe, we recognize each other in line and we get to talking and we just fall in love like normal people?” John mocked, realizing he was being too aggressive but feeling so anxious that he had to get it out, “You’re a criminal, there was no other way. I’d have been distrustful no matter what.”

James opened his arms a little, palms out to show that he was submissive, “John… Please…”

“Some other situation? What? Like you wanted to meet before I knew you were a criminal? So you could keep it from me? What about when I’d find out, huh? Do you have any idea how horrible I’d have felt finding out some other way? At least I knew what I was getting myself into and then out of. No. This was the only way.”

James closed his eyes, “I know that.”

“Then what kind of different situation is there? What would be the ideal way for you to manipulate me into loving you? Because no matter what, you’re a criminal and nothing is going to change that.”

James glanced up at John, expression going blank, “It doesn’t matter what other situation I’d like to have met you in, John. It’s too late now. I’m already what I am, like you just said, so maybe you should go back inside and start making plans with Sebastian to leave.”

“Maybe a situation where you’re not a criminal? Hm? In a fantasy land where you can pretend like you’re worth it? Is that what you’re talking about?”

James didn’t speak.

“But you said you aren’t apologetic about what you are. You don’t change for anybody. And certainly not me, remember that? Remember how you told me that?”

“Go inside. I don’t want to listen to you anymore.”

“That’s it then. You want me to believe that you’d change for me. Really?”

James’ jaw tightened.

“You love me and you’re just like everybody else. Predictable. I bet you hate that.” John smiled faintly, squatting down in front of James to look into his eyes, “Not as special as you pretend. Because of me. A nobody. I can see why you wouldn’t want someone like Mycroft to know that. But you can’t fool me. It’s real, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” James murmured.

“What was that?”

“Yes.” James shot John a glare, “Congratulations. You ruined me.”

“I just wanted to hear you say it. I’m on that list with who else? Tell me who else got to you like I did.”

“Carl Powers and Sherlock Holmes.”

“Pretty influential people in your life. I guess I’m not a nobody after all.” John sighed, looking down, “You aren’t lying now?”

“You already brought me this low, why the fuck would I be lying now?” James hissed through his teeth.

“What can I say? I have trust issues.” John smiled weakly, “Sorry. I know that was harsh, I just wanted to be sure. Do I really have to go back? I… I want to repair things.”

“I won’t feel secure unless I can count on the fact that you won’t leave.” James said coldly, “If I bother with this at all, I’ll want to see that there’s some value in me expending the energy.”

“I don’t plan on leaving. I... I’ll commit. If you want.”

“What did you have in mind?”

John took a deep breath, “You can… mark me. Make me yours with a knife and your initials. I want this to be real. I’m certain that it is now, I’ll do anything for you. I just don’t want to be tossed aside.”

“I’ll never toss you aside. You’re mine now.”


	22. Epilogue

“I can’t believe that after all this time, they still don’t fucking trust me.” John grumbled, eyes covered by a blindfold. He could hear Sebastian chuckling in the driver’s seat beside him and it made him even more cross.

“I’m not supposed to be a prisoner! It’s not fair! Why aren’t you blindfolded? Why do they trust you so much?”

“If I was wearing a blindfold, we’d end up in a ditch.” Sebastian said, patting John’s head, “Relax, don’t get so worked up. I promise, this is going to be fun.”

John growled, “As if.”

“John, please.” Sherlock said from the backseat, “You don’t have to worry about getting lost, I’ve got it figured out.”

“Oh really? Just wait until we hit the country smart-arse, you’ve got London and a few major highways mapped out in your head but there’s no way you know all the dirt roads in the middle of nowhere.” Sebastian teased.

“Well. Fuck you then. It’s not fair that we’re blindfolded!” Sherlock started and Sebastian rolled his eyes, turning on the radio.

“Neither of you understand surprises, honestly.”

 

“And nine, why on earth aren’t they here with us, hmm? Are they off having a wonderful holiday and we’re being stuck with their pet sniper babysitting us?” John continued, trailing off as the car slowed to a stop, “Wait, are we here? Or are you getting food? Sebastian? I want something to eat.”

“For fuck’s sake, John. You’re carrying on so much, just relax. It’s fun. See?” Sebastian tugged John’s blindfold off and put it back into the glove box, then climbed out to get Sherlock’s off. John leaned forward to blink out the windshield, eyes slowly adjusting to the new brightness.

It was James’ house, but even more stunning now that it was covered in snow. Out front was James’ car and John realized that the brothers must have gone on ahead, rather than abandoning them as he’d thought.

“Oh.”

Sherlock climbed out, giving the house an unimpressed look, then raising an eyebrow at Sebastian, “Really? You brought us here for this?”

“It’s the house they brought me to.” John said with a smile, climbing out and glancing down at the gravel, “Someone cleared away the snow for us to drive.”

“Yeah, Richard had some guys come out in advance, they wanted to… well. You’ll see.” Sebastian grabbed Sherlock’s hand and started tugging him towards the house, jaw tightening at his unhappy stomping, “What, would you rather go spend Christmas with Mycroft? Stop being a brat.”

“At least Mycroft wouldn’t drag me out to the middle of nowhere to have dinner with criminals.”

“Yeah, he’d just drag you out to the middle of nowhere to have dinner with your family and you’d whine about that as well.”

“Still, I’d rather be at home.”

“And John would throw a party and invite everybody you know and you’d probably be an arse to all of them too, you just don’t like it when you’re not the center of attention.”

“If you hate me so much, why don’t you just kill me and at least make things interesting?” Sherlock growled.

“Trust me, I’ve have you between my crosshairs more than once, sweetheart.” Sebastian scoffed.

Sherlock was instantly intrigued and he moved closer to Sebastian, “Really? When?”

John shook his head at their banter and let them go inside without him, instead wading through the snow around the house and back towards the stables, quickly finding someone else’s footprints to use and following them.

Richard was inside tending to the horses and John brightened, so thankful that they were safe.

“Hey, need any help?”

Richard jumped in surprise, “Oh, John! You’re here, I didn’t realize it was so late. We were going to do a big surprise thing, have you already gone into the house?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh dear, then I won’t spoil it.”

“Let me guess, you came early to put up decorations?”

“Wow, can’t you just let us have one thing? You’re worse than Sherlock.”

John moved over to Richard, giving him a hug, “I missed you, you’ve been working so much.”

“Well someone in this family has to be productive, come on.” Richard teased and hugged John back, “I missed you too. You wouldn’t believe how busy it is. And how warm. God, I miss the sun.”

“Please don’t start, you’ll depress me.” John rolled his eyes, “You even look tan, it’s horrible.”

“Don’t be jealous, it was a requirement for the film. And the next one will be even worse, no more green screens, it’s all filmed up in Canada. I can’t wait to crawl around in the cold mud. There’s even a scene where I have to strip down in the snow.”

“Sexy.”

“Not sexy, freezing. I’ll be drenched in water and I have to get naked to avoid frostbite.”

“Is that the one with Benedict Cumberbatch?”

“Ugh, yes.”

“I wonder if he’ll be on set for that scene…”

Richard shot John a nasty look, “Don’t even joke about that.”

John burst into laughter, “I bet you won’t look very impressive then.”

“Oh fuck off.”

John stood on his toes to kiss Richard’s cheek, “Don’t be upset, Iacomus, I’m just teasing.”

Richard rolled his eyes, “Go inside and look at the decorations, we went through all this trouble just to make this place look nice and you’re out here being ungrateful? It’s just insulting.”

“Will you join me?”

“In a bit. Get out of here, you’re scaring my horse.”

Ferrero licked John’s ear and John smiled as he headed for the door, wiping his ear off, “He looks terrified.”

 

The inside of the house really was impressive. There were decorations and lights everywhere, from candles to stockings to hanging paper snowflakes. The kitchen table was covered in cookies and sweets and Sherlock was sitting and watching Sebastian and Jim cook together, trying to act like he wasn’t eating a cookie.

John moved up behind Jim and gave him a squeeze, laughing when he squeaked.

“Oh John, it’s you! I was wondering where you’d run off to, I thought you were coming in with Sebastian and Sherlock.” Jim giggled, setting down his whisk and spinning to give John a hug, rocking with him to the holiday music playing, “Nice sweater…”

“Thank you, I figured you’d like it.” It was red with white snowflakes and the words “Don’t Panic” on the front. John had immediately thought of Jim when he’d seen it and he’d worn it that morning with the intention of showing it off at the dinner they’d originally planned at 221B, until Sebastian packed him and Sherlock into the car.

“It would make a better present.” Jim teased.

“Shhh, don’t jinx it.” John warned, spinning Jim and pulling him close again, “There are a lot of cookies here, don’t you think you went a little overboard?”

“Well someone has to make up for all the ones Sherlock’s sneaking.” Sebastian chimed in, giving Sherlock a sweet smile. Sherlock huffed.

“Maybe he’s sneaking them because there are so many, he could be trying to lessen the burden on all of us.” John smiled, giving Sherlock a nod, “Right?”

Sherlock smiled back, “Obviously.”

“You’re always covering for him.” Sebastian said.

“Well, he _is_ my best friend. And we worked on our communication, so cases are going much more smoothly. Turns out I actually _am_ useful. Who knew?” John dipped Jim.

“Plus, John’s gotten a lot less… secretive about his methods. And criminals respect that.” Sherlock said brightly.

“Mhmm, I bet they do.” Sebastian grinned, “A bunch of slutty criminals, begging John Watson to give them a good paddling.”

“Ew, gross.” John laughed, pulling Jim back up, “Just these three.”

“I don’t need this right now, I’m trying to eat.” Sherlock muttered quietly.

“It’s a Christmas miracle! Sherlock eating voluntarily!” John laughed, reaching over to pat Sherlock’s shoulder, “I wouldn’t dream of distracting you from that. Where’s James?”

“He finished decorating the tree and he went upstairs to slack off.” Jim winked, going back to work, “Bring him down, will you? Dinner’s almost ready.”

John nodded and left the kitchen.

 

James wasn’t in his room. John had been expecting it, but instead he found him in the music room, practicing quietly. That was a good sign.

John knocked on the door gently, smiling when James looked up, “Hey. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, did you have a good trip?” James stood and moved over to hug John tightly.

“Well I did complain through a lot of it, I thought you’d ditched dinner and were sending us to a safehouse or something.” John admitted.

“Hmm, of course.” James smiled. He gave John’s cheek a kiss, then nodded towards the piano, “Would you like for me to play?”

“Well, dinner’s almost ready…”

“I’ve been practicing it just for you, it won’t take too long.” James said, pulling John over to the bench, “You sing along, it can be a nice little duet.”

“I’d rather not sing, I’m not very good at it.” John cleared his throat.

“Oh come on, who will judge you?”

“You?”

“I won’t mind even if you’re terrible and scratchy and off key, it’s the spirit of the holidays, John.”

John looked away, but at the first notes of Baby It’s Cold Outside began to play, he faltered a little. It was a beautiful song after all…

James began to sing, not pausing his playing, just leaving room for John to join in if he wanted to.

John leaned against James’ arm, listening to his lovely voice, watching his fingers dance across the keys, and he joined in quietly, cheeks a little warm. He could feel James smile and he became more confident, singing louder to match the piano and his partner, feeling a rush of excitement.

There was no harm in staying. Here he was safe and warm and happy. He was on better terms with all the people in his life, Sherlock and Mycroft and even Moriarty as wild as that was, he wasn’t hiding who he was anymore. And he’d improved Richard and Jim and James’ lives too, at least once the trouble with being captured was sorted out. It felt nice to finally belong somewhere. He could be different _and_ a hero.

James wrapped an arm around John’s shoulders and continued to play and John closed his eyes, breath catching a little at the sweetness of the gesture.

And he could even be loved by the world’s most feared criminal.

Of course he’d spend the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everybody that read and commented on this fic, you guys were so supportive and you gave me great feedback that really encouraged me to keep up with this story. I really hope you guys like the ending. Thank you so much for reading!!  
> I drew some fanart for this as well, if you want to see, here's Richard (http://bbcshortarse.tumblr.com/post/137942355932/) and here's Jim from chapter eighteen (http://bbcshortarse.tumblr.com/post/138383358812/).


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